Something About Oneself
by nalagaOcean777
Summary: Every zanpakuto spirit has told something about themselves to their wielders, or vice-versa. A small peek into the first one of such conversations, and the bonds hence strengthened by them.
1. Blues

Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me by any means. Tite Kubo's brain belonged to Tite Kubo when I last checked, and though there's probably a wealth of wonderful stuff in there, I'm not about to be the first person to abduct it and find out, unfortunately. I'll leave _that_ to other, more able fans. :)

* * *

"I'll have you know, I rather dislike the color blue."

That was the first thing she'd told about herself, the first of many personal quirks that she had passed on to the grinning young man sitting cross-legged in the tall, flowing grass, his white and blue academy robes a stark contrast against the vibrantly scarlet ferns, his golden hair pleasantly tousled by the ever-flowing winds. Not that she'd minded telling him something like that at the time, then again. No, in fact, she had been quite enjoying the conversation.

She could tell by the smile permeating his features that her counterpart was enjoying the talk as much as she, which only added to the fun, naturally. She agreed heartily that such an occasion was by far more interesting than the lecture her little Kisuke was currently dozing on - the man already knew the very anatomy of that particular subject and more, besides. And so, when he had causally wandered into her little worldlet, she had latched onto the opportunity without protest. Rest besides, it just felt so good to have an animated conversation with an intelligent person that actually responded for once. Her domain was a lonely place otherwise.

She could remember vividly the long years that had passed, from the very day she and her counterpart had first been brought into the world, himself as a wailing babe cradled in his exhausted mother's arms, while Benehime had raised herself upright from a bed of ferns with a long sigh, examining her new home for the first time. The days, the months, the years that followed…they were now one long, boring blur in her mind's eye, a haze of loneliness and despair and irritation that she'd rather not recall willingly. She had called and called, so many times, for so many years, fuming in frustration when he had refused to answer each and every time. He had been able to hear her clearly - she knew that for a fact. The fact that he had been ignoring her because of it had nearly thrown her into fits of exasperation more than once. But she had waited all the same, dutifully, bitterly, as a good little zanpakuto spirit should. And when he had finally, _finally_ called her, called her name - well, there had been more than a little annoyance blended in her joy.

He hadn't even needed to ask what her name _was._

Most in her position would have called her fortunate, but she really wasn't so sure about it to this day. All the same, she couldn't help but selfishly enjoy the company of her counterpart at times. She knew a genius when she saw one.

And she certainly knew a genius when she lived in one.

The manner of his unresponsiveness had long been explained and forgiven, naturally, Kisuke leisurely informing her that he had been holding back simply because the shock value would have been, incidentally, almost too much for anyone in his family to take, as well as the fact that he knew his skills with a blade in itself had needed to be a little more developed if he intended to go about defeating his enemies without Benehime's raw power, which would have caused more harm than help. He had also informed her that she wasn't alone in her past predicaments, surprisingly, as such unusual communications between zanpakuto and wielder were actually common among especially gifted individuals. Not that it had been particularly comforting or anything, but at least she knew now that she hadn't been alone in her suffering. Benehime personally couldn't wait to sympathize with any spirit with a similar past to hers if she ever met one.

Since then their relationship had been amiable and comfortable, Kisuke visiting when he could - or rather, at his leisure. And now the rippling plains shifted in color, autumn red fading into an amused shade of pine green, as her little Kisuke took in her aforementioned statement about the color blue.

"What, these robes don't look that great on me?" he had inquired in mock injury, plucking at one of his sleeves and gazing at her reproachfully. "I always thought the coloring suited me, actually…or is this just a stereotype of yours, hm?"

Chuckling, Benehime knew he had good reason to throw that question her way. If her name wasn't enough of a giveaway, her appearance in his eyes certainly was. Garbed in a baggy bright red kimono fit for a noble and sporting equally flaming hair, the picture was completed with her crimson parasol, which was royally adorned with tassels and a gold-leaf flower insignia at its center. Turning the bamboo handle between her fingers, she regarded him in amusement. No, blue wasn't really her color…but it was in more ways than one.

"Rest assured, I'm sure you'd look even more striking in red or something," she had retorted haughtily, ruining the effect with a small laugh. "I suppose that wouldn't be allowed, of course - from what I've gathered, red academy robes are worn by women, neh?"

"Indeed. It would be rather awkward."

There is a short silence, and then Benehime speaks up again, her voice as bright as ever, though something in her demeanor is now changed. "Blue doesn't really fit these plains either, you know. It's a very degrading color for grass, in my opinion. I stand out far too much for my liking. And it gets…cold, so to speak. Another thing I find distasteful." She regards him with a small frown now, and her little Kisuke does the same, smart enough to realize a meaning emerging in her words. "Blue…blue has a habit of representing pain here. Pain in the body, the mind, and most especially the heart. Top it off with silver and you've got grief. Edge it with black and you've got the anger and helplessness of a loss that could have been prevented." The frown still tugging at her ruby lips, Benehime lifts her golden gaze to the sky. "More often than not it'll rain sooner or later, if ever I do spot a streak of navy in my plains. As I know you realize, the majority of us spirits do not find merit in rain. It's just as bad to me. This parasol is meant to catch the light of your happiness, not the tears of your sorrow." Her eyes return to him, all cheerfulness gone. "…It's a very unpleasant experience."

"Indeed…"

The silence persists again, more pensive than the last. The grass around them takes on a brownish hue, sparks of gold lighting in the fern heads, and all the while the wind keeps blowing, sometimes swift and tugging, sometimes soft and caressing, swaying with the shift and flow of their overlord's thoughts.

At length Benehime sits back, fiddling absently with the largest tassel on her parasol, which is located at the hilt of the sunshade's handle. Her voice is somewhat lighter than before, but there is a hidden note in it that Kisuke is quick to catch, the slight tremor prevailing in all of her words.

"These fields are capable of taking on every color in the visible spectrum and more," she said. "Every one represents a mood or thought you might be feeling at that moment. In the years waiting for you to answer my calls, I had to content myself with learning the meaning of each and every shade and hue, to the point where I could discern every subtle hint and message. It was a way of learning more about you, a way of getting to know you better, until you were finally willing to learn more about me. But of them all, I dislike blue to this very day. I simply cannot abide it. Your personality simply cannot afford the consequences of such a plummet in emotion." She fixed him with a stern eye, even as her voice remained light and lilting. "The only time I feel afraid is when I catch sight of a single stem of turquoise in this place. Because when you feel that way, there's a chance that you could actually do something stupid and get yourself killed. There's a chance that you might give up on all of those delightful ambitions of yours. And it's all the more worse because you hardly ever force blue into the grass, you know. It's the few times that you did when I wished most for you to reply to my summons." She paused. "Now that you're here and listening, I'd like to inform you that I'm willing to do everything in my power to make you cast that blue away. I'm willing to lend you every piece of advice I can produce, every bit of company I could ever provide." And here she finally smiles again, very slightly. "Blue just doesn't sit well with you in my opinion, little Kisuke."

And her counterpart stares at her for a while, the expression on his naturally scheming features unreadable.

"…You don't think so? Well, I guess blue never really quite fit me like it does everyone else, true."

Benehime watches, her smile widening more with every second, as Kisuke sits back in the grass, finger to his thin in a guise of deep thought. "No, I don't think I like blue as much as I do green."

"Green?" She decides to play along with his little game, pretending to sound perplexed herself. "And why would that be?"

"Well, green's always looked like a nice shade to me, so to speak. In fact, I like green and white in equal proportions. Hm, yes, green and white…and stripes, too. I've always found something rather fascinating about stripes."

"Who would have thought of it?" Voice mocking, Benehime laughs. "The great Kisuke Urahara, prodigy of his generation, finds a fascination…in stripes?"

"Yes, I do. There's just something about them that can have a person staring at them for a while, in my opinion. Put the right way, stripes can make you look taller or wider, and a certain contrast in colors can bring out a rather brilliant display in a simple pattern. It's really a rather astounding property, if you come to think about it…stripes can even bring about a person's overall opinion of you, depending on whichever method you wear them…"

And so the conversation goes on, and Benehime plays along without regret. For she knows well enough that her little Kisuke has taken her confession very deep to heart, considering this revelation even as he shields his thoughts behind petty talk of green and white and stripes, and how they might look on a hat, and how that hat ought to be shaped, and whether or not such an occasion would be required where he might have to wear something of that sort.

In the end, she knows that she'd prefer to be with her little Kisuke more than anyone else if given the choice. His judgment is clean and uncut, his personality fun and something to be wary of in all the right ways, and his simple unpredictability is enough to make up for all those lonely years calling his name and not getting an answer. If he deems that a person ought to be killed, then by all means Benehime is content to get the job done well and right, the bastard undoubtedly deserving every ounce of pain henceforth inflicted.

She _is_ a princess of her own little sort, besides. Like her counterpart, she harbors a well-fostered pride in her abilities and her partner, even years and years later. Still she savors the pride of standing by her little Kisuke's side as the displays of astonishment and surprise and respect flow from their enemies, the fools realizing that their diminutive Mr. Hat-and-Clogs is actually a force to be reckoned with. She knows she is the most fortunate being to grace the planes of existence when her little Kisuke stands before those stuck-up duddards and laughs and taunts and teases.

Benehime, the Crimson Princess, knows the meaning of pride when she can laugh and taunt and tease at his side. And in the end, she knows that it was worth it, really, all the lonely years and the frustration and the calling of his name. Of course, to his day, there are still times when he irritates her to no end, though that isn't surprising - it seems a trait he inflicts on everyone, whether he tries to or not, but she loves him all the same just because of it, remembering how dull life might have been if he had decided to never respond.

And they both remember vividly that one particular talk of blue, that day he decided to doze on that worthless lecture. The day they finally completed the bond waiting to form between them.

In Benehime's opinion, it had been about time.

But then, her little Kisuke always seemed to like dragging things out.

* * *

A/N: Weeeeell…I have absolutely no idea where this came from, but I hope it's turned out okay. I've always been somewhat fascinated by the nature of zanpakuto spirits, and wanted to try a hand at writing them, more accurately the ones that have yet to reveal themselves to the media. The whole nature of this fic will be generally speculative - most of my guesses on these spirits' appearances and worlds will probably be proven wrong at some point or another, so it's best not to take anything too seriously.

This being my first Bleach fanfic, and the fact that I've only been exposed to said fandom for about three months, makes for a rather precarious writing status. I really do hope everything was portrayed in-character - I'm somewhat worried about my characterization of Kisuke Urahara, and the ending of this chapter feels slightly confused in my opinion, but I'm tired and I'm determined so I'm just gonna submit this thing and see how it turns out. Pointers and suggestions are very welcome. By all means I hope I didn't butcher anything. -.-'

Other than that, thank you for reading if you're already this far! :D Hopefully I'll be able to update soon in the future…hopefully…as I've realized I'm a very crappy updater already…

-shutting up-


	2. Lack of a Sky

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, not now, not then, not ever. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there dying to state that they _do_, and I don't blame 'em, and would like to join 'em sometime. All the same, being on the wrong side of the law is not fun, and so I must hesitantly refrain.

…Yeah. Getting on…

* * *

"I've always wondered what a sky looks like."

The soft footsteps come to a halt at length, leaving only the plaintive wail of wind and rain in the wake of the soft, rhythmic pace. The relative silence persists for a bit, and then Gin Ichimaru's head tilts to one side. Though he doesn't deign to look back, his voice rises at length, aloof and carefree as ever.

"Hm? Didja say somethin'? 'Fraid I din' quite catch that the first time."

Silence again. And then Shinso's voice rings once more, flat and emotionless.

"It was nothing much, master. I was just wondering what a sky might look like."

The hush that rises in the wake of this statement is as complete as the last. Not that Shinso himself finds it disturbing in the least. No, he is used to silence, between himself and his wielder. Even after he had first spoken his name…even after Gin had first called it in battle…even then…the most they have shared in their time together since is silence. Silence of voice, of course. For the world around them, the world of his wielder's heart, carries on regardless of the rise and fall of something as insignificant as a voice, something as diminutive as the spoken word.

This world of his is a place of complete stillness or utter extremity. It can be a haven or a chaos in the blink of an eye, but more often than not the chaos prevails, taking hold of the sky and winds, wreaking havoc on whatever dares to stand against it. Thunderheads constantly loom above, rising out of the great fog that covers all, shrouding this place in mystery, hiding, always hiding…secrets, thoughts, emotions, all behind a façade of pearly white as unquestioning and aloof as a constant smile. Of course, there are little snippets, blessed moments of time, when the fog is less thick, the thunderheads less dark, the wind less lashing and heated. There are times when a mere gentle mist seeps about, fanning over the vast scarred earth, clinging lightly to the landmarks worth hiding, while the expanse above Shinso's head seems on the verge of lightening, dispersing.

It is during those times when Shinso feels almost too at ease for comfort, those times when he often looks up expectantly, his eyes able to pick out every distant curl and swirl of the clouds above, wondering, waiting, perhaps expecting a ray of illumination to break through, for the light drizzle to cease, for the heavens to allow him the smallest, slightest glimpse of that fabled 'sky', that rumored blue expanse that signifies a wielder's total peace of mind.

But the sky never comes.

Instead, after a small while, the stormheads darken again, and the wind rears up, a mass of scythe blades, slicing relentlessly into the mist even as it thickens, wafting through the air, solidifying into fog once more, unaffected by the rain that then lances down. The scene might be illuminated by an angry flash of lightning, perhaps a crack of thunder that sends tremors into the ground, or maybe the downpour will simply persist, pouring down in flooding torrents, drowning all in the world save its lone inhabitant.

Shinso does not particularly care for the rain, but he does not dislike it, not remotely. Sometimes it's better that way, in fact. It cannot harm him, it cannot drown him, for he is too tall, too high up to be reached and smothered. Instead he lets it fall, lets the silver curtain enclose round his head, and he hears the thunder, and he spies the dancing lightning, and he knows that, in the end, it's really just better to let it rain. It's just better to let the storm take root, than to look up in its times of lull and be left to wonder, to wait, to hope for a complete reprieve, because that always hurts more, to be disappointed every time.

Instead he lets the chaos reign his realm, and does not attempt to put a hand in stopping it, for he knows that he will merely be ignored. Gin Ichimaru is a solitary person, and will not accept the help or advice of others, much less that of his zanpakuto's.

And so Shinso is resigned to the condition of his world, and knows that he should not hope for anything better. His moods can grow as fickle as his master's in such conditions, of course, and there are times when his raging screams echo through the wasteland, when his uncontrollable sobs rival the song of the thunder. And then there is his grim silence, which is what surfaces most often and prevails the longest, a silence in which Shinso succumbs into a subconscious of deep thought, exploring the veins of mood in his wielder while accepting the fact that they will forever remain distant, never true partners, true friends.

…

But even then…

…sometimes…

…he can't help but wonder…

"The sky, ya say?"

Gin's voice remains easy, his demeanor seemingly relaxed despite the chill of the rain that falls around them, plastering Ichimaru's silver hair. After another brief silence, he tries again, making every indication that he isn't really interested, only vaguely curious.

"I don' see why ya'd be wonderin' 'bout somethin' like that. A sky ain't much to look at, really."

Silence. And then Shinso's response.

"…It is merely a muse, master. In all the years that you have roamed the world alive, the clouds of thunder have never abated for the briefest of moments. As such, I have never witnessed a…sky."

"Huh. Really, now?"

Never does he try to look back. Not once. But then, he never has. Shinso has yet to witness his wielder's face. He never questions the fact, but he often concludes that whatever emotion he himself might have to reveal, as an extension of his master's own heart, would not be becoming in Gin Ichimaru's eyes. The man has always made a point to hide such things, besides.

It is no different this day, on a dreary, fog-run wasteland, as the rain falls and the clouds shift above. And the silence is nothing new.

"…Wouldja care to see it sometime?"

That, however, is a different matter. The emotion of surprise revived for the first time in many years, Shinso stares at the back of his master's head.

He fails to respond.

He does not know how.

A small laugh escapes from Gin's direction. Or perhaps it is a sigh. The rain renders such things hard to discern. However, his voice rings clear as ever.

"Well, if tha's the case, I suppose I oughtta make it a point to show one to ya sometime, ne?" He pauses. "…Nah, I guess ya right about that, then again. My heart ain't really up to it in the end, hm?"

Hissing rain.

"…Don' worry much 'bout it, Shinso, m'partner. Someday ya might get to know a sky after all. Tha's what I'm aimin' for, anyway. S'long's you keep shootin' true when I ask, ya might get a right eyeful o' sunlight real soon. How's that sound to you, hm?"

The pattering of droplets prevails in the air.

"…Huh. Patience, m'partner. Patience."

The whispering wind meanders through Ichimaru's hakama, the newly-granted Captain's haori damp and dripping but still shapely on his tense shoulders. After a while his footsteps then resonate once more, that soft rhythmic pace of his fading as easily into the rain as their owner's profile fades into the fog.

And Shinso knows that he is gone, the moment the man disappears from view.

He can't really remember why Gin had visited in the first place, now, not having bothered to take much notice of Shinso since the day he spoke his name for the first time. He remembers vaguely a mention of a rebellion against Soul Society, and something of a new world governed by that Aizen character that his master is so interested in. After a few seconds, however, Shinso lets the memory drop, lets the matter seep into the flood of rain around him, knowing that he probably has no need to uphold it anyway.

Instead he stands there, the downpour a curtain around his head, and he thinks in his grave silence while it lasts, knowing that his mood might very well change against his will sometime soon.

Gin Ichimaru is a man of lies and deception. He is not one to be trusted, and will keep his true colors hidden behind an indifferent fog at all costs. Shinso knows this better than any other individual in existence.

…

…And yet…

…even now…

…he can't help but wonder…

…and hope…

The next time Gin calls his name, Shinso takes heed, and shoots to kill mercilessly. Because he will lend his master every ounce of power he possesses.

He will cut down anyone in his path. He will surpass the limits of pain. He will endure his moments of madness without complaint.

If only…

If only to see…

This fabled 'sky'…

* * *

A/N: Well, here you have it. I'm on an inspirational roll, with many thanks to **hu3long2 **for your morale-boosting review. May I continue to entertain you, and everyone else that decides to have a shot at this fic! :D

Gin Ichimaru really is a difficult character to outline, always the one playing charades, and no one knowing his true motives even now. As such, I tried my best to capture his aloof personality, but I really don't know how well it turned out…

Notice also that I didn't fit a specific appearance to Shinso, as I really don't know how such a character might turn out, his name being what it is. Not having much else to go on, I decided to work on his state of mind and emotion instead, and it came out like this, pretty much. I figure Gin has a lot of tumult going on behind that creepy grin of his, and it seems the weather can be affected by such moods, so…well, that as a base, I hope it all turned out alright.

Then again, I hope another update might come as soon as this one did! And now, if you could just click on that button right there on the bottom left…you know…I hear something interesting happens… ;)


	3. Energy Pill Distrust Complex

Disclaimer: I can hardly draw a picture worth a crap. D'you really think I'd own something as artistically pleasing as Bleach? …No, I thought not.

* * *

"…Hanataro-chan?"

"Huh?"

"I don't really trust those energy pills."

The said 7th seat officer of the Fourth Division, Hanataro Yamada, stares at the tiny animal curled opposite of him in confusion.

"Um…what? I'm sorry, but I don't know…"

"The energy pills with the skull on them, Hanataro-chan. I don't trust them."

With this statement Hisagomaru limberly uncurls himself from the rock he had been perching on and instead flows to his wielder's side, lightly scurrying up one of his arms and nestling comfortably in the crook of his shoulder. Hanataro automatically reaches up and pats the little animal absently, still somewhat bemused by his zanpakuto's sudden statement.

Hisagomaru takes no heed to his new perch's confusion, instead shifting around a little and making himself more comfortable before closing his huge, wide liquid eyes, his tiny leaf-shaped ears flattening against his furry head in a sign of contentment. With the appearance of some combination of ferret and cat, along with his large wet eyes, small nose, twitching whiskers, and small paws with pads of velvet, the zanpakuto spirit could have been a child's favorite plushy toy for all the dangerousness he displayed. His smooth, russet-red fur and overall soft look only added to the effect…but Hanataro knew better than to judge by looks alone.

When he wanted to, Hisagomaru could be a right little monster.

Not that he'd ever displayed any ferocity to Hanataro directly, of course. However, during those times of battle, when he had to direct Hisagomaru to devour the injuries of his comrades and enemies alike, Hanataro could just feel his zanpakuto vibrating with every jump of the gauge on his blade. With every gulp of pain Hisagomaru had to digest his ferocity would grow, until the diminutive little creature metamorphosed into something lethal when unleashed in one great slash upon his foes…only to recede again entirely after that one great bubble of power was spent, popped.

Only then did Hisagomaru ever return to his normal, lazy state. And it was only then that Hanataro dared to actually visit him.

Now was one of those times, having slumped into an exhausted slumber after tending to Kurosaki-san's injuries in the underground tunnels of Sereitei. Weighed down by a large amount of fear and confusion transpiring to the recent events and his joining forces with the ryoka, Hanataro wasn't really even aware that he had fallen asleep until he had suddenly realized that he had somehow slipped into another world, Hisagomaru's domain, sitting upright to find himself perched on a sun-warmed rock with his zanpakuto curled opposite of him on a similar earthy slab, dozing away in the wan sunshine.

Hisagomaru was almost always dozing when Hanataro came to visit or simply came without meaning to in his dreams, an ability that he himself could not quite explain. This world was a lazy, lethargic place, as Hanataro had noted on his first visit, ending up on this very same rock at the time. It was never one specific spot that they would meet each other - sometimes it was in a rocky clearing surrounded by sleepy-leafed trees, like now, and other times Hisagomaru greeted him on a pale forest trail, or beside a small pond edged with cattails and lazily drifting koi. Nothing was ever particularly remarkable or surprising in this world - in fact, everything was rather pale and tired, even the sky and the sun, and hardly any other creature stirred. But it had suited Hanataro just fine.

He didn't think his heart to be remotely flashy or interesting, anyway…

Now he gently caresses Hisagomaru's fur as the little animal stuffs its nose into his sleeve, still recovering from his surprise. His zanpakuto rarely speaks to him at all, preferring to instead grace him with his lazy, dozing presence and comfort, which Hanataro usually gladly accepts. If anything, this is the first time Hisagomaru has even stated an opinion of any sort concerning Hanataro himself. …Or one of his possessions, rather. Still, not that it mattered all that much…unwilling to let such an occasion simply go to waste, Hanataro decides to cautiously prod his companion for a few more details.

"Um…Hisagomaru-san…"

"No formalities, Hanataro-chan. I don't trust those either."

"O-Oh! W-Well then…Hisagomaru…I…why do you not like the energy pills? They are a supplement of the Fourth Division, so they can't be that bad, can they…?"

Hisagomaru shifts a little more on his shoulder, opening one eye to regard him blearily. Then the little creature yawns, displaying a pink tongue and surprisingly sharp-looking teeth.

"Mah, Hanataro-chan, I would care less if they were from the Eleventh Division instead. I do not trust those pills because…hu…they do not look like they work."

"Ah…yes…lots of people seem to think that, too…some even wonder if they are dangerous, because of…"

"The skull, Hanataro-chan?"

"Yes, the skull."

"…It is a very nice skull, Hanataro-chan. It has strange eyes." Now both of Hisagomaru's eyes are open. "I like the energy pills that the other Fourth Division people use, but yours, Hanataro-chan…I do not trust yours."

"But why not? They aren't different from the other ones…"

"They do not look different. But they are different. I do not trust them, Hanataro-chan."

Hanataro stares at his companion some more, but now Hisagomaru has turned away, whiskers twitching, and even as he watches the creature's eyes close, and before he knows it his zanpakuto is sleeping again.

Deciding not to pester Hisagomaru any more than he needs to, Hanataro instead thinks about his companion's statement, wondering what the little creature could possibly mean by his energy pills being 'different' from the others'. He hasn't tried one yet, admittedly, and doesn't really know what to expect, but if they work for everyone else, why would they not be the same for him?

After a while he resolves that he will try one as soon as he wakes up - he will probably need it anyway, if Kurosaki-san decides to get into another fight, which is very likely as he seems hell-bent on saving Rukia as it is. This decision in mind, Hanataro instead returns to absently stroking his partner, thinking that Hisagomaru is probably just restless from not being called for so long. Not that he wants to enter a battle anytime soon…but the needs of his zanpakuto would have to be seen to eventually. Hm…

Hisagomaru lets Hanataro stroke him to his heart's content, while his whiskers twitch in slight annoyance at the fact that his wielder had not taken him seriously. Could Hanataro not tell that those pills might be fake? Well…no harm in letting the boy see for himself, he supposed. He wasn't about to coddle his master into learning the lessons of the world every time. No, he was meant to aid his companion in battle, not teach him the nature of life.

Fake energy pills, he supposed, could be included in that particular quota…

* * *

A/N: Hmmmmm…somehow this chapter just feels…weird. Very weird. Not much else I can say about it, really. All the same…I couldn't resist. Surely everyone loves Hanataro and his awesome energy pill? XD Bless the little man's soul…I was laughing for hours afterward when I first witnessed him gulping down that skull-emblazoned jawbreaker-sized medication like it was nothing…


	4. Stereotypical Indignancies

A/N: Many thanks to **St. Kitsune** for reviewing and providing inspiration for this chapter! :D

Disclaimer: I own the stain-remover…does that count??

* * *

"Hmmmm…I hate stereotypes."

With this flat statement, Suzumebachi then flares her tiny wings, as though just daring the correspondent to object.

Soifon does not, incidentally. Instead she regards her zanpakuto gravely before nodding stiffly in agreement. "Yes, I can see why that would be. They can be very irritating at times."

"Hmmmm, that would be an understatement."

Soifon looks on nonchalantly as Suzumebachi takes to the air, apparently intent on working off the restlessness that comes with sitting around in one spot for too long. About half a minute, to be exact. But that was beside the point. One with a small body and energy to spare is always intent on using it, as the theory goes. And Suzumebachi was by all means small enough.

She was a wasp, if the previous statement still did not justify her cause enough.

The said individual performed a small cartwheel in the air before alighting instead on a nearby dandelion, almost fussily examining the contents of the bright flower even as she continued to speak, her voice loud and clear despite her obvious stature. Soifon had supposed this might have something to do with the fact that Suzumebachi was a part of herself - otherwise, conversation would have been near impossible.

"Hmmmm, stereotypes, the nuisances of the world, I'd say. Don't have the brains or imagination to delve in beyond the looks of someone, if what I've seen of them can tell anything. And the blasted people are everywhere, it seems! The great big warrior with the axe thinks the small woman with a tiny stinger for her blade will not stand a chance against his all-powerful might! The little child thinks that the even littler bee with the cute stripes and pretty wings could not possibly hurt him!" As though to emphasize her statement, Suzumebachi waves a couple of her antennae in the air while her front legs busy themselves with collecting whatever treasures to be found in the dandelion. "Hmmmm, it's an outrage! A scandal! An insult to me, an insult to you!"

The sight would have almost been comical for anyone else, but Soifon remains stoic in face, only nodding again.

"You're quite right about that. And we seem to encounter such buffoons almost every day."

"Hmmmm, you've struck the sore where it hurts all right, just like always, sister. I swear, those stereotypical individuals will be the end of both worlds one day, and…"

Soifon lets Suzumebachi continue on her little tirade without complaint, knowing that it would be foolish to try and stop her anyway. Instead she lets her mind drift on to other things, while her gaze roams her inner world, taking it all in, this strange sanctuary that's hers and Suzumebachi's alone.

She hadn't come here for a long time, not like this, with no other purpose but to just…talk. To revel in a company that did not judge, that did not ask prying questions or throw her sympathetic looks. All those times in the past, when Yoruichi had still been there, when Soifon had never been in need of any other friendly company…back then, she had only ever come to this place twice, once to find Suzumebachi's name, and another to assert the full ability of her zanpakuto. If anything, this was the first time she had ever come here to just communicate with her diminutive extension.

Her inner world was a strange place, by all means. Later on it would remind her vaguely of those canyons in the Western Americas that Hanataro Yamada liked to go on about, returning from his trips to the living world and sharing his tales with anyone who would listen, even if that someone cast you icy glares and small frowns. Then again, there _were_ strange rock formations here, lone epitomes of sandy pillars and curving tunnels and unexpected caverns that dominated the landscape, rendering no area completely flat. However, unlike Hanataro's avid descriptions from those western 'movies', (whatever those might be), Suzumebachi's world was far from a dry desert or wasteland. No, grass dominated all here, short, tough grass colored a dark green, carpeting the ground and creeping up the sides of the rock formations as high as they would. And dotting the grass were splashes of bright yellow, everywhere one turned - the bright yellow of dandelions, as far as the eye could venture. And because of this, the air was always thick with the flowers' puffy white seeds, which floated and swirled about like stars in a night sky, like fireflies in a forest.

Strange was a rather dull word to describe this place, but that had been all Soifon could tag it as for the moment.

The same might have went with the outward appearance of Suzumebachi, but Soifon preferred not to think that way. If she had learned anything from herself, she could say that one wasp was an extremely formidable opponent in the physical world as it was.

"Hmmmm, sister? Sister, you are not listening to me, are you?"

And with that Soifon's mind abruptly returns to the present. She glances around briefly to find the source of Suzumebachi's voice, as the wasp is no longer attending to the previous flower, only to feel something ticklish on her own head. Raising a hand automatically, she is stopped by Suzumebachi yet again.

"Hmmmm, I wouldn't put a hand up there if I were you! I won't hesitate to harm you if you plan on crushing me to death."

Soifon immediately lets her hand fall back down to her side and resumes her stride through her inner world, having stopped briefly when Suzumebachi had been attending to the dandelion.

"Ah…perhaps it would be better if you didn't sit…right there…Suzumebachi."

"Hmmmm, don't be ridiculous. I'm tired! Everyone needs some rest occasionally. That dandelion put up a mean fight, I'll have you know. Rest besides, your nice head was the nearest stable place, so there! I don't see why you're objecting, anyway. You came here for my company, no?"

"I - well -"

"Hmmmm, you can't fool me, Soifon, I know you like a book, I do. About time that you got around to talking to me anyway. I've been waiting for quite some while."

"Is that so?"

"Hmmmm, of course, you twit! What else is a zanpakuto spirit to do, hm? Hold conversations with dandelions?"

Rather struck by this revelation, Soifon decides not to respond and instead concentrates on placing one foot in front of the other, pausing and sidestepping a towering column of stone in the process. Suzumebachi, on the other hand, doesn't seem ready to let the thread of talk fall so easily.

"Hmmmm, rest besides, I still think we ought to do something about those stereotypers. If you're ever going to be Captain of the 2nd Division, Soifon…if you're ever going to go about surpassing that Yoruichi Shihouin…you need to crush those first impressions quick as you can if you're going to get any respect at all around here."

This is successful in catching Soifon's attention.

"You think that might be the case?"

"Hmmmm, could very well be, sister. I'll be blunt here - you're a small girl. And I'm a small bug. However, if we combine our powers, I think we'll be able to garner a nice reputation in no time. How about that?"

Soifon pauses, before allowing the smallest of smiles to pass across her features. No one is here to see it, anyway.

"I think I like the way you think, Suzumebachi."

"Hmmmm, only to be expected, really. I do rather pride myself on my wits, and you're certainly no dull blade yourself, Soifon. Together, let us rid the world of these annoying stereotypes!"

By the time Soifon shakes herself from her meditation, it is almost midday. Completely ignoring the call of lunch, however, she instead makes a beeline for the training grounds, one hand on the hilt of her zanpakuto.

The glint in her eyes is enough to send those nearby retreating for safety.

* * *

A/N: And there you have it.

As I'm not very familiar with Soifon, I hope she wasn't too OOC or anything, and I hope I did all right with the characterization of Suzumebachi. Pointers, suggestions, criticism…I'll take anything! :D

Seeing as I've somehow forgotten to do this in the previous chapter…many thanks to **Arguealot**, **hu3long2**, and, again, **St. Kitsune,** for your supportive reviews. I really appreciate you guys' feedback! :)


	5. Quest for Longevity

A/N: A big thank you and a thousand chocolate-chip cookies to **wisdom-jewel** for providing inspiration for this chapter! Your support is forever appreciated! :)

Disclaimer: Own this franchise, **nalagaOcean777** does not. Ridiculous, those who would think so are. …Strange, this form of speech is.

* * *

"…I have a feeling that your life will be quite a long one."

It is to this statement that Jyushiro Ukitake awakens, finding himself lying flat on his back. Blinking blearily, he is greeted with a first-class view of a vast expanse of darkness over his head as his vision clears, a darkness occasionally shafted by rays of light rising and fading from the surface on which he lies on. Even as he watches, a tiny stream of bubbles drifts down from the abyss above, glittering delicately as it meanders past his shoulder, and bursting upon contact with the shimmering, rippling floor beneath him.

For a moment he can only stare, mortified, almost afraid to move.

And then he takes a small breath of air, registering the strange, soothing thickness of it as it passes through his lungs…and he knows exactly where he is. With an abrupt start he tries to sit up - but he is interrupted by the same voice as before, now closer. It is deep and rolling, making one feel secure in its presence - and it is also familiar, only confirming his suspicions as to his whereabouts.

"Stay still, Jyushiro. Do not move. Not yet. It is not quite past…"

And then it strikes like a sledgehammer, that horribly familiar pain, making him double over with a shudder he cannot control. His chest contracts considerably, and Jyushiro mentally braces himself, waiting for that first racking cough to erupt in scathing fury…except that it never comes. Instead, after the briefest of moments, the pain subsides, and though the light burning in his chest is still there the other symptoms simply fade away, relaxing the stiffness in his shoulders ever so slightly. Moving gingerly, he blinks in disbelief at this good fortune before cautiously lowering himself down on his back again, heeding the voice's previous request. After a few more seconds, a smile crosses his face as he finally realizes the reason for the nonforthcoming coughing fit.

"Ah…Kotowari?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you…"

"It is not a problem, Jyushiro."

And then his savior drifts into his line of vision, a large swordfish as long as he is tall, its toned muscled body reflected in a warm glow from the light of the 'floor'. The zanpakuto spirit's scales are silver and gray, filled with various undertones of every type of blue that flickers into being and fades away again with his every movement. The length of his blade-shaped jaw is quite impressive as well, a long bone-white spire that is angled high and with pride. The single large eye that surveys Jyushiro from one side is the color of an ocean beneath a wide expanse of blue sky and bright sunlight, unfathomably deep, filled with knowledge and peace. The most prominent thing to be found about Kotowari, however, is the silver ring bound at the base of his tailfin. Attached to this silver ring is a length of translucent scarlet rope, clearly strung with silver charms, that stretches all the way down to the floor and through it, to some other source beyond. Even as Jyushiro watches, the rope surges slightly to the right, as though the attachment at the far end of it is moving about swiftly in the opposite direction.

Noticing the source of Jyushiro's gaze, Kotowari is quick to reassure him.

"Sougyo is on the other side, Jyushiro. He will return as soon as your attack has finally been settled. It is particularly vicious this time around," he adds, an odd note in his voice. "…Forgetting your medication will do you nothing but harm, Jyushiro."

At this the said Academy student shifts uncomfortably, returning Kotowari's long stare sheepishly. "I never intended to leave it behind in the first place…but…I couldn't just ignore that hollow's presence…"

"I never said your intentions were wrong." Kotowari's gaze remains unmoving. "The hollow has been dealt with, if it troubles you still. Shunsui Kyouraku arrived with reinforcements before you blacked out."

"That…that's good." Jyushiro settles back more comfortably, one worry apparently dissolved. "But…I don't remember quite…"

"You were trying to hold the hollow off while the others went for help," Kotowari prompted. "The younger Academy students are now fine, and none have sustained injuries with thanks to your vigilance. However, you overexerted yourself considerably. And without having taken the medication beforehand…" He paused. "As you have probably recalled me having said before, it was…vicious. Sougyo and I lent you the best of our strengths, but in the end we saw no other choice but to pull you here and shield you as best as we could from the brunt end of the episode. That which you just felt a few minutes ago was a particularly strong relapse, the last echoes of a dying occurrence. The rest, you are being shielded from by means of being present in my half of the domain. Sougyo is above - or below, if you would prefer - warding off the worst of it, from the surface."

"I see…"

There is silence for a while, though it is not uncomfortable. Ukitake lets his gaze roam back to the dark abyss above his head, though his view is occasionally blocked by Kotowari's form as he circles overhead. The sight is rendered strange by the fact that the zanpakuto spirit appears to be swimming upside-down…though in reality Jyushiro is the one lying upside-down…against the surface of the ocean…eyeing his lazily drifting Academy robes, which sway and ripple in time with the subtle currents of the water around him, Jyushiro frowns slightly. It was quite a different perspective, to be sure, the daunting sensation that you were going to fall straight forward into the abyss a…very awakening experience…but at the same time, it was not so very disturbing at all, but rather had a protected, untouchable feel. A place where one could rest in peace with no fear of being harmed by others.

This was the exact second time he had come here, to this place, his inner world. The first time, seeking the name of his zanpakuto, he had found himself floating on the surface of a vast, deep blue ocean, surrounded by nothing but water below and blue sky above…though the heavens had been dancing with jagged shards of slight, golden in contrast against the sunlight. Lightning in a blue sky…

Sougyo and Kotowari had come to him then, dorsal fins cutting the rippling surface, proud blades slicing deep into the shifting waters. Sougyo, with his darting movements and black scales filled with scattered speckles of gold; and Kotowari, with his deliberate, steady strokes, his sides a hewn silver glowing with various underlying tones of blue. Both with the opaque red line that bound them, that kept them connected no matter how far away one or the other might stray. One could imagine his surprise - and joy - in discovering two separate entities instead of the forewarned one.

Sougyo and Kotowari.

As one, Sougyo no Kotowari.

Apparently, it seemed, his inner world was split in two domains, one above the water and one below. Sougyo seemed in charge of the one above, the one with the lightning in a blue sky, while Kotowari managed the one below, the one that was apparently a place of a dark abyss and shafting light. Ukitake seemed to be meant to be the center, the point of all rotation, to walk the glittering, delicate line separating the two. He could never quite fully enter one part of this world or the other - he was confined to the surface of the ocean itself, both above and below.

Now Jyushiro raises his gaze back to Kotowari, remembering something else.

"Kotowari, what did you mean?"

"Mean about what, Jyushiro?"

"When I was waking up, I mean." Jyushiro frowns at him. "You said something about…my life…being a long one."

There is a long pause then before Kotowari then placidly responds.

"Yes…yes, I did say that. It was more of an afterthought than anything else, but yes, that is so. I do believe that your lifespan will be a very extended one."

"…Why?"

"Why not? Do you doubt it?"

In the wake of this new voice the world around Jyushiro visibly shifts, and he finds himself experiencing the sensation of being moved, practically flipped over. He barely has time to shut his eyes when he feels himself breaching the surface of the water, when he feels the warmth of sunlight, a great contrast to the chill of a looming abyss, touching his face. A new sound fills his ears, the damp hiss of shifting water and the soft roar of the occasional small, breaking wave. A new buoyancy lifts his back, and suddenly his Academy robes are not drifting, but clinging to his skin, soaking wet and exposed to air. A distinct, almost comforting chaff of salty air bombards his olfactory senses at the same time, quite different from the exact lack of such a scent below the water.

He opens his eyes to dancing lighting against a bright blue, and he knows immediately where he is.

As though to confirm his suspicions, there is a disturbance in the water beside him, and he finds himself spluttering and blinking in the wake of a sudden salty splash, just barely catching a glimpse of a flashing silver charm, a streak of transparent red. And then Sougyo is beside him, one large eye mere inches from his own, bobbing in perfect time with the rhythm of the current, the golden flecks intoned within his black scales flashing brilliantly like priceless coins.

"Ah, sorry about that," he says hastily as Jyushiro mops his brow with one free hand, still trying to clear water from his eyes. "I suppose I should have given some sort of warning. But say, you _are_ alright, aren't you?" he adds, almost in trepidation, and his concern is suddenly clear, verily reflected in the golden depths of his gaze. "I held off as much of the pain as I could, and it's about over now - thought you might have wanted to see a little sunlight before you woke up, y'know. But really…how are you feeling?"

Jyushiro nearly laughed at the stark contrast in conversation. The facets of his inner world were not the only polar differences in his heart. However, with a meaningful try, he managed to suppress his mirth - for the moment, at least. Sougyo was quite genuine in his concern, despite. Though the more outgoing of the two and the offensive entity of Ukitake's zanpakuto, Sougyo had a habit of displaying emotion in vibrant, more simpler ways, be it in speech or way of acting, unlike Kotowari, who let his thoughts show in the tones of his voice instead of the words he spoke.

"Don't worry, Sougyo." Jyushiro cast the swordfish beside him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine now, thanks to both you and Kotowari."

"Yes. Yes, of course." At this Sougyo abruptly turned away. "Well, I knew all along that you were alright. I just wanted to be certain."

"If you say so…"

* * *

Jyushiro Ukitake eventually awakens the next morning after a very long slumber, to be greeted by a dozing Kyouraku at his bedside, along with many more visitors that fairly burst into the room mere minutes afterwards. However, it is only after a hearty breakfast consisting of almost three-serving's worth of food, the reassuring of concerned fellow students, an update on the recent homework assignments, and some good-natured bantering with Shunsui about just _why_ he really couldn't be late for the class to start in mere moments, along with his intended methods of getting there at the last second, ("No, you _cannot_ and really _shouldn't_ use shunpo to get there, Shun, I don't care how convenient it is and how the girls go to swoons over it, you just _can't_. Yamamoto-san doesn't approve of cheating, as I've been trying to tell you time and time again - I - well, yes, I was there when he said that - but that's still no excuse, and you _know_ it! Honestly, you can't go relying on brownie points forever…"), that Jyushiro was finally able to settle back in the futon, savoring the silence and relative emptiness of the room. The ache in his chest, which he had noticed since awakening, had finally begun to ease somewhat, and the danger of another episode felt quite remote for the moment, which was more than he could have asked for.

And it is then that he suddenly remembers.

Peaceful expression folding into a very small frown, he fingers the sheets, suddenly pensive. All that time in his inner world…and they had never really pursued that one statement Kotowari had made concerning the possibility of a long life.

The question still plagued him, really - would he actually be able to live up to those sort of expectations, much less from his own zanpakuto? He wasn't sure, but…perhaps he could set that as a goal. Yes. A quest for longevity. It would be quite a victory.

Time was an uncertain and almost trivial thing in Soul Society, of course, but if he ever reached the three-thousand-year mark…well, he'd muster his courage and make it a point to give candy to the youngest current Captain at every opportunity afterwards, even if he or she didn't want it - which was rather probable in itself.

It was a rather bizarre bidding, in all honesty - he'd have to be a Captain himself to gather a fair chance of accomplishing the candy-giving aspect of the whole idea - but Jyushiro didn't mind. Shunsui could cook up odder things than that without really trying - in fact, he could blame the Kyouraku noble for more than half of the malformed ideas he had found himself garnering recently.

And he wasn't sure, but…he could have sworn that he could hear Kotowari _and _Sougyo chuckling in the back of his head in the wake of that thought.

* * *

A/N: Ahh…gosh darn it all, I think I pretty much botched the delivery on this one. X.x I've been battling evil little plot bunnies of doom for a couple of weeks now, as all of you have undoubtedly noticed, and this chapter has been fighting tooth-and-claw against completion at the same time. Which leaves for a rather exhausted brain and a most-probably-inferior piece of writing. I'm truly, truly sorry. D: However, as I currently see no way of improving this update without having to rewrite the whole thing (which I just _can't_ imagine doing at this stage) I'll just be uploading this and crossing my fingers. Constructive criticism is welcomed with wide-open arms. Really.

Um-de-dum…weeeell…all that depressing stuff aside…let us move on to the credits! And thus I thank **wisdom-jewel** for your previously aforementioned inspirational values and chocolate-chip cookie appreciation, **hu3long2** for your immensely supportive and morale-boosting reviews, **AisuHime** for your short and down-to-the-point support, **DelMarch **for your very encouraging words, **St. Kitsune** for your wonderful ideas and continued responses, **kimi108909 **for your smile-inducing words, **Arguealot** for our interesting conversations, and **D R A G ON L I L I E S** for your introspective response - which I really did appreciate, by that way! :)

And so, hoping to update soon, I depart to continue combat against the unexpected overflow of ideas that I cannot get rid of!! :D


	6. Six Plus One

A/N: Again I owe it to **St. Kitsune** for bringing this chapter into being. Keep it up with those ideas!! 8D

Disclaimer: I don't even own a _cell phone _yet, for God's sake. -.-'' How d'you expect me to possibly afford claiming even a tiny fraction of the groundbreaking franchise we know as Bleach? Because I don't really think so, myself.

* * *

"Seven."

As far as Sajin Komamura was concerned, Tenken's huge, sonorously rolling voice could have crumbled mountains for all its sheer intensity, and he prided himself for possibly being the only individual in existence to listen to those base tones and not have to so much as flinch, even with his own ears being as sensitive as they were. As it was, he could still feel the earth tremble beneath him with the presence of that voice, uttering that single word as though it were a charm delicious to the taste. But then, had he himself dared to utter it quite yet, he would have savored it like a pastry as well. As of now, however, he dared not speak that single syllable himself…no, not yet…it was a glorious hope, and even the brightest of hopes could always be shattered, as he had come to learn countless times in his life. He would not permit himself to say that word, that number, until he was absolutely certain to his very bones that it would be his, and his to utter with pride, with triumph. No, until that time came, he would utter it only in mind, in heart, and…hope…

He feels it with every fiber in his body as Tenken shifts, where the armored giant sits beside him, the way the earth quivers once more in the wake of that simple adjustment in posture. Tenken, the guardian of heaven. His zanpakuto.

A greater honor Komamura could not imagine, to be able to sit beside this great being that is a part of himself - to be able to take comfort in the presence of this omnipotent strength that stirs the very bones of the earth. He had hardly been able to believe it, those few weeks ago, when he had come face to face with his zanpakuto spirit for the first time…the unbelievable power that had been his all along, fostered and nurtured by the hard stares of every passerby he had ever had to cross, every insult he had ever had to endure, all the pain he had ever had to heal…embodied in armor of gold and steel, uttered with a voice to match the roar of a raging ocean, bright and terrible. Here, now, was the first time he had been permitted to converse with Tenken, to sit beside him as he was now, and survey the world that surrounded them.

Though, in truth, they had so far done more surveying than conversing. Tenken was a being of few words - and Komamura was content with that, finding little need to speak himself. They could read each other well enough without the hassle of words.

Indeed, in the wake of Tenken's voice comes that strange stillness once more, the ringing silence after the rumbling tones of the storm, but it is a filling quiet, and it is enough to content both of them for the while. And the world spreads out around them, a great flat expanse of land, though stranger scenery would be difficult to find. To the right of Komamura a pallor of smoke drifts, and distant flames can be seen dancing amid the darkness of a scarred place seemingly ravaged by a war, while to the left he could espy a range of rigid mountains, regal and proud in all their glory, offset and surrounded by gently sloping fields of green, rippling in a keen wind. However, in front and behind him were walls, great walls of gray stone worn by weather and age, framing the structure of a ruined fortress, perhaps once great in its time of wholeness. Littered around the entire area are bits and pieces of a story long forgotten - a broken pillar here, another severed wall there, the base of a monument long shattered and dusted into the ground. And then there is the sky, a huge stretching expanse above, utterly clear and dyed an absolute shade of the cleanest blue.

The silence unfurls and stretches, reaching out with leisurely fingers, seeping into everything, the wind and the grass, the smoke and the flames, the weary steadfastness of the ruins around them. And then, at length, when the silence has stretched itself as thin as the thinnest sheet of paper, on the verge of splitting into something almost awkward, Tenken speaks again, and the thunderstorm returns, shaking the ground to its roots.

"Seven," he says again, that sweet number of hope and victory, and his voice is content, as though deeply satisfied by the ring of each letter. "That is a good number," he continues, slowly. Deliberately. Another thing that Komamura cannot help but appreciate - the way Tenken utters each word as though it were a priceless jewel cupped in the palm of one's hand, precious, to be treated with all due respect and gentleness. "A number of fortune, I deem. It shall serve us well."

And the confidence underlying his words is such that Komamura finds it almost impossible to doubt.

Yet doubt he must. For the sake of his pride, if nothing else.

"The Captain's examination is to be initiated tomorrow, at dawn," he growls softly, contemplating such implications. "…It will be difficult."

"True, perhaps." That slightest, tremulant tenor amusement in Tenken's voice confirms Komamura's suspicion that the giant indeed knows his attempts at pessimism, for the sake of practicality. As well as the fact that he finds it needless. "But we shall pass it. This I know also. We shall pass it in greatness, you and I."

The silence takes wing once more, but now Tenken apparently does not want it to set flight quite so easily. After a mere few seconds he speaks once more, and now the laughter is unmistakable, a toll of distant bells amid the thunder.

"You doubt, Sajin."

It is not a question. It is a statement of knowing.

Komamura does not respond.

"Doubt is that which renders my armor weak, Sajin. Doubt of the purpose. Doubt of yourself. It is not becoming of us."

"…I know."

"Yet still, you doubt."

"…Yes."

"Hmmmmmmm…"

The rumor of an earthquake could be hinted at this point, and Komuamura instantly knew he was beginning to tread treacherous ground. Fur bristling ever so slightly, he reinforces his previous response with an explanation, now turning to face his companion for the first time, towering though Tenken was.

"A man without doubt is a man of arrogance. Is that not so?"

"That would depend on the nature of the doubt. There is doubt of the future, and that is liable, yes. But there is doubt of abilities to the point of degrading, and that I do not approve of, Sajin. That besides, you are no man in the end." And here the tones of Tenken's voice reach an almost indistinguishable pitch, as they had fallen so low. "You are more than a man, Sajin. You are more than your doubt."

The silence fluttered, terse, uneasy.

"…Doubt will not grant us the number of seven, Sajin. It gives us nothing but pain. And I am tired of pain. It chaffs the plating, and I have wearied of polishing, of mending." He paused. "You know this."

And as suddenly as the earthquake arrives, it is gone, leaving Komamura surprised and…strangely uplifted. Somehow or another, the simple wry amusement that lingered even now in Tenken's voice was enough to wipe away those final traces of uncertainty. And suddenly he finds that he can utter it, without catch, without…doubt…

"Yes. I know it well." He, too, paused, ever so briefly. "…The number seven would cure that, I imagine."

And the laughter finally erupts, gracing the air with the merry toll of a thousand bells, ringing, ringing.

"Perhaps, Sajin. Perhaps indeed. But the pain will not leave until you have revealed yourself to it. And you know this, too. In your heart."

This statement catches Komamura off guard, and he can only watch as Tenken then suddenly rises to his feet, reducing the earth to shuddering jelly, filling the air with the slides and clinks of the armor that shrouds him. Without another word the giant turns and marches off, silver and gold glinting like stars in the radiant sunlight, each step the small epilepsy of an erupting volcano, and Komamura looks on as his other half vanishes into the ruins and smoke of the war-torn land to his right, as though seeking to finish the battle and let the place heal at last.

And he sits there for a long while, the wind tugging gently on his fur, playing with his whiskers, and at length he sighs, the intake of breath wistful, as he considers that day, the one Tenken had indicated.

The day he would muster the courage to show himself, and face truly against his pain.

"Maybe…someday…but even should the number seven become mine, I…not yet, I fear…not yet…"

He was not ready to face the pain. Not now. But when that time would come, he was sure that Tenken would be there, towering at his shoulder, guarding his back every step of the way.

And he was content with that.

* * *

A/N: Well, there you go! As with Soifon, I'm not exactly familiar with Komamura either - heck, I'd like to meet someone who is, from what I've seen of him so far - but hopefully I was somewhere on the right track with this one. I rather like the way Tenken came out, fortunately, so I think I did alright with him.

Uhm…on another note…this is rather embarrassing, really, but…though this may sound like a whiny advertiser or whatever…another oneshot piece that I recently submitted to the Bleach section, entitled _Secundum Nex_, hasn't been getting any review love lately. At all, for that matter. T.T That particular one was revolving around a particularly stubborn plot bunny that I had attempted to get rid of, but with no responses whatsoever the bugger is still dancing around in my head…bugging me. I don't know what I might have done wrong, but I really would like to know - at least for the sake of terminating that irritating little rabbit. -.- So, to anyone that might be interested…some feedback would be very, very nice… o.o' Man, that was definitely too whiny…

Back on topic, let those credits roll!!

As a whole, I'd like to sincerely thank **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **hu3long2**, **Mortimerscross**, **Moonrise31**, **St Kitsune** (inspirational well), **wisdom-jewel**, **kimi108909**, and **Volital** for all of your wonderful reviews and nourishing support!! :D You know I love you guys! Heck, I'd give more customized thanks, but there's so many of you that I'd end up being repetitive, so…I can only display my gratitude as such. Just know that you all deserve a thousand times more for giving me your time and feedback!! :)

So, till next time, I depart once more to do…well…whatever it is I'm going to do after this, I guess…


	7. The 'Equals' Effect

A/N: And here we find another update! :D Although I'd first like to thank **SplitToInfinity** and **D R A G O N L I L I E S** in advance for actually taking the lame ad in the previous chapter seriously and leaving feedback for my oneshot, _Secundum Nex_. Gosh, you guys don't how much I appreciated those reviews…thank you so very, very much. :) And now, to move on to this chapter…

Disclaimer: I…dude, I don't own Bleach!! Honestly, I don't! No, I swear, really…c'mon, you can trust my word on this one…seriously…yeah…so…if you could just lower that paintball gun from my nose, please…I'd appreciate it muchly…yeah…thanks… o.o'

* * *

"Raise your head, boy!"

And with this rather snappish remark, Kira Izuru is immediately jerked from his reverie with an abrupt start. Completely out of sorts, he nearly drops the cup of steaming tea he holds in his hands as he struggles to regain his composure, apologizing profusely all the while.

"O-Oh! I - I'm sorry, I just - I was just -"

"By the great heavens, you look like I just tried to bite your head off," the old man opposite of him grumbles from where he sits in a worn wooden rocker, a plume of smoke billowing from his mouth as he speaks. Raising a gnarled hand to adjust the position of his pipe, he regards the terrified Academy student before him with a frown. "Calm down, lad. I'm not going to eat you, if you'd get that in your head straight. Come now, ease those nerves before you go and spill something on the floor and make a fool out of yourself."

"Y-Yes sir, of course -"

"I'm not no sir, boy! I don't sit well with the fancy titles, so stop it or leave it."

"Ah, right - sorry."

Wabisuke snorts, grumbling something else indistinguishable around his pipe, but Kira finds that he can't hear it, and is grateful for that. Swallowing, he instead tightens his grip around the cup to assure it won't spill and settles back somewhat in his own chair, trying to get comfortable again. However, now that he has been returned to reality - of sorts - he finds that he just can't ignore the nervousness that holds his spine stiff and straight, the unease that made him unable to meet the eyes of his zanpakuto. Instead he finds himself forced to take more interest in the grimy floorboards beneath his feet, his shoulders sagging unconsciously under the weight of the stare the old man was now giving him. He didn't know why he was so…well, terrified…of this man, this person that was supposedly a part of his own heart. But the fear was there, all the same, leaving his heart fluttering wildly, like some trapped, caged beast seeking escape.

"For goodness's sakes, boy, how many times do I have to tell you?" And again the gravelly voice resounds, unsettling Kira anew. "Raise your head. Come now, you look despicable all humble like that. I'm the only person around here with the right to look that trodden, you hear?"

And Kira did try. He really, truly did. Mustering his courage he lifted his head from the floor with a strangely unbelievable effort, trying to look Wabisuke in the eye - and he had to drop his gaze. Again. Because somehow, for some reason, he just couldn't…

Wabisuke wouldn't have been all that imposing normally, perhaps. Merely three feet away was a simple old man with all the proper attributes; the shoulders hunched, the skin rough and gnarled and pulled into tight wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. His nose was crooked, his 

fingers were stark white and bony, and his eyebrows were thick and unruly, the hair that escaped from beneath his wide-brimmed, blackened fishing hat thin and silver and matted. He was clad all in dark colors - a heavily patched and rumpled brown trench coat, black woolen pants, and tall, scarred leather boots that had resounded with great heavy thunks against the floor as he had bustled about readying the tea upon Kira's arrival.

Similarly, the immediate surroundings would not have had anything to do with his uneasiness either, for they were warm and homely enough, not at all intimidating. Here was a simple small hut, the kind owned by fishermen and hunters of the mountains during the winter, filled with all the needed necessities - chairs hand-carved from scented pine, a couple of steady tables similarly crafted, and three or four windows ranging all around. Hanging from the ceiling and cluttered upon all available flat surfaces were other items, everywhere - nets, fishing lines, knives, a box of tools, a set of rough cutlery, an axe, and other various bits and baubles hiding in the dancing orange light and shadow of the fireplace that took up almost all of the wall to Kira's left. The hearth was supplemented with many logs and overhung by a kettle, which had been used to produce the tea and was now steaming and bubbling quietly to itself, emanating the scents of an upcoming herbal stew.

No, the thing that was riveting him to his seat, the thing that was rendering him unable to look up from the floor, was most probably the expression on Wabisuke's face, the air of heavy certainty that seemed to hang about him in a thick, pulsing shroud - the sheer intensity of his eye.

Kira could only see one of Wabisuke's eyes - the other was cast in shadow and further concealed by the tilted fishing hat, whose brim hid anything else displayed on the other half of the old man's face - but that one eye was quite enough to leave him breathless and terrified, in all honesty. It was an intense, electric blue - if Kira had paid any thought to it at all, he would have mused that they rather resembled his own. Yet the weight of that singular gaze on him and him alone…the _expectation_ all but flaming in those penetrating depths…

He just didn't think he could possibly live up to it all…

Was this how it was like, to know your zanpakuto?

The silence ticks on and stretches, thick with Kira's nervousness. Wabisuke can easily see it, the way he clutches his cup of tea as though it were an anchor to keep him from being swept away by some great, terrifying tide that might mount at any given moment. He waits, puffing rather impatiently on his pipe and watching the fumes drift lazily to the ceiling, coiling there like tiny dragons awaiting a word of command.

After a length of waiting for Kira to speak, however, he decides to take it upon himself to break the ice. For the sake of conversation, if nothing else. Though, admittedly, he wasn't usually a very sociable sort of person.

"What were you thinking about, boy?"

The way Kira stiffens almost makes Wabisuke want to spit out his pipe in disgruntlement, but he resists the urge. For now, anyway. No use wasting perfectly good tobacco on a little bit of indignity.

"Ah? What…what was I…"

"Thinking about," Wabisuke prompts. To vent some of his frustration, he instead decides to take a good, long drought of tea himself, artfully grasping his pipe between his fingers and lifting his own cup to do so while awaiting an answer - which comes, fortunately.

"Oh. Well. I…I was just wondering about…all of…this…"

Kira feebly waves his hand, indicating the entire hut in general.

It was a tentative response, maybe, but it's a start, Wabisuke muses.

"All of…this?" he repeats gruffly, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," Kira replies, lowering his head even more, if possible. A faint flush steals across his features briefly. "It's - well, it's probably foolish to wonder, but I can't help it all the same. I mean - if you're a zanpakuto - _my_ zanpakuto - do you still…well…"

"Need all this?"

"Yes, you could say that…"

"A good question, actually, lad." Pretending to look thoughtful, Wabisuke sets his cup down in his lap and makes a show of stroking a nonexistent beard, amusement manifesting as a flinty glint in his eye. "Well, I don't know…maybe I actually get cold and hungry on occasion, hm?"

And for once Kira seems to momentarily forget his awkwardness, looking up from his tea, expression one of intense curiosity.

"Do you really?"

"Well, do I look like a man who doesn't work to eat to you, boy?"

"I - well, no, actually, not really…"

"There you have it."

"But…I mean, I always thought…since you're a…spirit…"

"Just because I'm the life in your blade doesn't mean I don't need to eat, boy." Wabisuke waves a hand dismissively, pipe bobbing. "For all I know, I might be the only one that needs food as far as zanpakuto go, but that still doesn't change the fact that I do. I ain't invincible, that's for sure. Beats me how it's supposed to work since I live in your soul and all, but eh, what can be said?" Again, another offhand wave. "It's a take it or leave it world out there…but I don't mind. I do like being able to enjoy a cup of tea in leisure, you know."

"So do I, for that matter. This one in particular is quite good, by the way."

"Why, I'm flattered. Thank you so very much."

Another silence arises, this one by far more comfortable than the last. The thick, exotic aroma of a herbal stew is now heavy in the air, and the hearth crackles softly, flames leaping and swirling brightly. And Wabisuke chuckles, creating a thick cloud of smoke over his features and catching Kira completely by surprise.

Jumping again slightly, he stares at the old man, who is now coughing and spluttering, waving a hand this time to clear the unintentional smog. However, the expression still adorning his ragged features can only be defined as outright amusement - which is quite alarming, in Kira's view.

"Ah…uhm…Wabisuke…?"

"Ahem…oh, don't mind me, boy." Clearing this throat and shaking his head, the old man merely chuckles some more afterwards, looking utterly satisfied. "I'm just laughing for the sake of it, you know." He paused. "There now, but that wasn't so hard in the end, was it?"

"…I'm sorry, but I don't quite…"

"You're raising your head, boy."

And the expression on Kira's face is truly priceless in Wabisuke's opinion as his eyes widen, surprise making itself imminent as the realization strikes. His speechlessness prevails for a while, but at length he speaks, something akin to amazement slowly dawning anew on his features in replacement.

"But…why…?" He drops his gaze briefly, but it's now in thought and not in humbleness. "It was…hard to do so before, to be honest. Except that now…it's so easy." Again he looks up, as though testing the theory, making sure. "Why is that? …What did you do?"

"Nothing," Wabisuke chortles in reply, taking a long draw from his pipe and puffing contentedly, closing his eyes. After a while he opens them again at Kira's pensive silence. "If you want it written out in paper and ink, I'll just tell you," he continues at length. "You're looking at me as an equal now."

"An equal…"

"Quite right, lad." A pause, another puff of ash. "When you first drifted along, you were viewing me as a superior, a power to be feared. Which is something I most certainly am not. There's no way I'd ever be more powerful than you in any aspect. Because I'm just not, due to who I am. You could say I'm at the bottom of the humbleness food chain. Yet you believed I was a force to be reckoned, and it weighted you down. You couldn't look me in the eye." He sighed heavily, his breath wrought with soot. "The effect works similarly the other way around. Should you have come here thinking yourself better than me, you wouldn't have been able to raise your head just the same. …Hmph." Another thoughtful pause. "I didn't know, at first. I didn't think you'd look at me any other way than a friend from the start, really. I've been watching you for a while, boy. Izuru. But you don't get people 'round here in these parts at all. I misjudged my own image, with no one else to tell me so." He laughed again, a series of short, breathy chuckles wrought with snorts and puffs as he breathes in through his pipe and out through his nose. It was an interesting sound, in Kira's opinion. "I guess this means we've both learned something about each other this day, have we?"

"Yes. It seems that way indeed."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, though." Wabisuke turns to the kettle over the flames. "But say, it looks like the stew's about ready for eating. Care to join me? I believe I've enough for two."

"…I think I'd like that very much." Kira allowed a small smile to pass over his features. "I've always wondered what food would taste like in my own inner world…"

"Oh, it's about as plain and simple as whatever you get when you're out and about, rest assured…"

"Well, you can't always be certain about that. You've never had anything from the outside world before."

"Doesn't mean I don't know, now, does it?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…"

* * *

Stepping out of the hut and into a pool of afternoon sunlight many hours later, Kira Izuru sighs deeply, savoring the fresh air. He pauses awhile on the porch, looking back towards the door and almost wishing he could go back, but he overrides the wish with a slight shake of his head, stepping off the wood planking and onto the moist earth of the path stretching out ahead of him. It's a plain dirt path, surrounded thickly by a close sentinel of dark pines shafted gold in the fading light, and as he sets off into the thick woodland forever sloping steeply to the right, moving always downhill, he can't help but smile to himself again, raising his head a little higher.

He was to graduate from Shinigami Academy at last the following morning, and a more filling sleep he could not have imagined. All in all, he could say to himself honestly that, for a first-time meeting with his zanpakuto, things could not have gone better.

And now there was merely the task of exiting his inner world in time, lest he oversleep and possibly miss the ceremony…

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have it. A chapter in the honor of Kira Izuru, for taking care of that Kifune/Kibune guy in the most recent episode of the anime! Seriously, I was so incredibly happy when he managed to take down that jerk single-handedly _without_ having to be saved by Ichigo or something. Ya, okay, I know it was a filler episode and not something to be particularly ecstatic over, but I need _some_ form of entertainment during the weekdays, you know, and rest besides, Bleach fillers aren't really too bad if you look at them in a positive light. :\ Really, they could always be so much worse… -shiver-

All in all, I'm not too sure how this chapter might have come out, but I hope it's okay overall. To me it feels rather…lackluster…but I'm submitting it anyway to see how it turns out. It was rather difficult trying to wrestle Wabisuke into a feasible light, and I still don't think it might be quite right for him, but oh wells. I'm happy with it overall.

Oh, and the 'equal' effect is a theory I've had for some time on Wabisuke's ability to make other zanpakuto heavy enough to drop. :) I decided to incorporate it into Kira's first meeting with him to see how it might have turned out, and I think I did a fairly good job, all in all.

On another note, I can promise that the next chapters are going to be more…interesting…than the last few. Or so I hope, anyways. All down to the reader in the end. So hang in there! ;)

And now let us proceed to the Thank You Section!!

In this area I now thank **St. Kitsune**, **hu3long2**, **Moonrise31**, and **D R A G O N L I L I E S** (your name is a fun one to type, I tells ya! XD) for your reviews, which are filled with much awesomeness. Again, thanks!

And here's to a soon update! :D


	8. Poetry and Prose

A/N: And finally, we get to the good stuff! I've been looking forward to writing this one for a while now…

Disclaimer: I t'nod nwo hcealB ro gnihtyna detaler ot ti. doireP. dnA fi uoy nac daer siht - fi uoy neve derehtob ot yrt dna daer siht, yllautca - neht uoy era lla eht erom emosewa rof ti.

* * *

"So…what think you, Shunsui? Is this place not a subtle, flowing paradise in your eyes? Does not the veil of darkness taunt your senses? Does not the glowing flora capture your heart with their delicate wings of rose and jade and violet? And are not those shining stars above our heads positively glorious, spotting the navy sky like a scattering of the finest silver dust, more valuable than the purest gold lining on a noble's robe…?"

And Katen trails on, his voice sultry and mellow in the warm night air. He has one hand raised absently to the heavens, while the other pillows his head where he lies, flat on his back, a lazy smile adorning his features. On either side of him, the Flower King's countless layers of robes and cloaks and shawls fan out, sprawled wings of impressively colored cloth.

Shunsui Kyouraku chuckles where he lays beside the first half of his zanpakuto spirit, at leisure himself, content to enjoy the incessant poetry that slowly winds its way through the grass, the trees, the flowers, and the darkness, memorizing a few lines here and there for future use or reference. Peering to the side, he finds that he could spend hours tracing the thousands of floral designs and intricate patterns woven into the threads of the clothing of the man beside him - garments truly fit for a king. He finds already that he rather likes this person, this laid-back young man with his drawl grin and lazy countenance.

"Wearying of his rambling already, are you?"

And then there was the other half of his zanpakuto, the one he was never quite sure of…

Shunsui turned his head slightly to find another figure towering beside him, a dark form blotting out the stars in that area. However, he meets the contemptuous gaze of the Demon King evenly, only smiling a little wider for it.

Katen, too, turns at the sound of the newcomer, his own dulcet tones fading in mid-sentence as he takes stock of the situation…and smiles, even more brightly than Shunsui.

"Ah, Kyokotsu, you came back at last!" Genuine happiness colors his words brightly. "I was beginning to worry, dear brother. Forgive me, but I had thought, for the very most briefest of moments, that perhaps you would never arrive to meet our Lord, who has found us at last, after much struggle and hardship befitting of a warring warrior. My content is fulfilled, now that you have returned once more." He waves slightly. "Come, sit down with us, and gaze at this wonderful sky that is to be ours equally. Come, and let us talk, as zanpakuto and wielder have done afore us for many a countless generation."

The towering shadows shifts, and Shunsui is quick to notice how Kyokotsu's expression remains icy, unmoving.

"And, as usual, you go about spouting your flowery nonsense," he glowers in retort. His eyes are black, flinty. "This is not the time for poetry, Katen. This is a time for testing strengths, for pacts." He shifts his gaze to Shunsui once more. "…I will stay here. But I will not talk to you," he adds, rather venomously. And then his voice takes on an odd pitch, almost shrill, his mouth almost bending in a sneer. "You are no Lord of mine! I bow to no one. I am the Demon King, and no law will harness me. You would do well to remember that."

And with that, Kyokotsu turns away with a ripple of the cloak that shrouds him, and he stalks off, stopping a few yards away and simply standing there, immobile, arms clearly folded. Beside Shunsui, Katen sighs, a voice of long-suffering.

"Dear brother, you wound me, that you should utter such words of disrespect to our Guidance," he laments, expression utterly crestfallen. "I fear you must forgive him, Shunsui," he adds apologetically, both arms falling to his sides at last. There is a thick rustle of clothing with that simple movement. "Kyokotsu is not one of kindness, nor compassion. His rage is terrible, and there are times that I wonder for his sanity, if you would permit me to speak honestly. Yet he is my brother, and the blade in your left hand, half of our fighting strength. I fear you will have to toil all the longer and harder to earn a respect of some sort from he."

"And you respect me already?" Shunsui inquires, somberly. He is not looking at Katen any longer, but his head is tilted instead in the other direction, surveying the tall, dark form to the side.

"But of course," Katen replies, graciously. "I can see it clearly, the power you hold. You will Guide us well. But I alone cannot carry out your wishes. We need Kyokotsu as well, for my power is not in the battle, in the cutting, but in the thought, the stratagem, as you must understand."

"I see…"

Shunsui remains silent as Katen then sighs lightly and turns the one-sided conversation to other things, and the poetry weaves into being again, permeating all that surround them. But this time Shunsui pays little attention as his thoughts roam to other things.

He had come here to learn things, deliberately napping in the middle of class in the process. Kidou control, the one hour he didn't have Jyuu-chan sitting beside him to make sure he didn't slack off. Though, bless the man, he'd probably work himself into a fit after he'd caught word of what he was doing now. But Shunsui didn't mind. The time would be well-spent, as he would explain to his friend later on.

Jyushiro had already made contact with his zanpakuto, Shunsui knew. He was one of the few people to be told of the nature of Ukitake's blades - "They are both connected, for better or worse, Shun. Even in my inner world, Sougyo no Kotowari remains as one, despite being of two separate entities." The amazement had been clear in Jyuu-chan's voice as he had said that. "They are bound by a red line strung with charms, a red line that will never break."

But it was not the same here, Shunsui thought to himself. No, here, Katen and Kyokotsu were both completely separated, and polar opposites as well, if the display he'd just witnessed was something to indicate the situation.

Katen was the bright, amiable one, he mused. The Flower King, clad in all the colors of the rainbow, lazy and kind, a person who spoke only words of poetry and prose. Kyokotsu, however, was the dark, icy one, one who spoke little and scathingly, the solitary individual of terrible strength that he gave to few, if any. The cloak that shrouded him was about as black as Katen's was bright, and his skin was pale, face hard, completely uncaring. The Demon King, a man of darkness.

Yet both Katen and Kyokotsu were alike in so many ways, as well. Physically, they were identical as twins in every aspect - they both had black eyes, strikingly handsome faces, and they were both tall, a few inches above Shunsui's own head. Both were strangely passionate, in one way or another, and each one seemed to emit their own brand of power. Strong individually, and possibly terrifying together, if they could ever bond that way.

His inner world seemed to reflect both such qualities, looking around now. This place was a woodland of sorts, though the trees were a good distance apart from each other, leaving other plants ample space to grow and thrive. A carpet of grass predominantly covered the earth, though in scatters and clusters flowers grew, everywhere. Flowers of every possible sort, blooming on vines or standing solitary on their own stems by themselves. And the blossoms practically glowed with an odd inner light that illuminated the ever-constant midnight that reigned in the sky. There was no moon above their heads, only the vast, starry expanse, sometimes fainter, sometimes brighter, always there. Night…which was probably an influence of Kyokotsu, as much as Katen's was the glowing flowers.

Shunsui turned his fleeting gaze back to the said heavens, deciding to stop fretting and instead start enjoying this peaceful relaxation while it lasted. Any moment now, he was sure, either the sensei or one of his classmates would be shaking him roughly by the shoulder, with class over and an impatient and disapproving Ukitake hovering at the doorway. The stars really were quite lovely, as Katen was currently illustrating.

At some point or another, Kyokotsu drifted back, haughty as ever, though a cold sort of curiosity alight in his eyes. He sits down stiffly somewhere beside Shunsui's head, just out of his line of vision, and Katen greets him brightly once more.

"Ah, Kyokotsu, I knew you'd have a change of heart! Your moods shift like raging tides of sun and storm, really. It intrigues me to no end -"

"I don't need a heralding every time I come near you," Kyokotsu snaps, before turning back to Shunsui. Katen looking not at all put-out, only smiles wider and sits upright, folding his hands neatly.

"But surely you wish to speak with our Lord at last, dear brother?"

"…No."

What seems to be genuine surprise lights Katen's features. "Is that truly so? But why, then? Why do you sit so purposefully beside our Lord, after your long defiance, with such a serious expression adorning your features -"

"Katen."

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

"But -"

"_Shut up_."

"I..."

_You're not going to be able to hurt anything with that fruitcake of a brother as your only line of defense_.

Katen's broken voice fades into the background. Hardly surprising, really. Shunsui knew Kyokotsu probably didn't like talking verbally anyway.

_You think so?_ he replied, albeit silently.

_I know so._

_And…?_

_…You really are the Lord, then?_

_You sound awfully disappointed about it._

_I bow to no one._

_Obviously. _

_Yes. But if you end up dying, we go down the drain too. And I don't intend to die anytime soon._

_Unsurprisingly._

_Do you think you're strong, then? Do you think you're worthy of dictating the both of us?_

_Hardly. I prefer to think of it more as a…friendship thing, ne? _

_…You talk like Katen._

_Perhaps. But I'll probably end up fighting like you, or am I wrong?_

_Yes. _Contempt again. _You have no idea how to really fight._

_Yet._

_…Yet._

_Maybe you could teach me?_

_I'm a King, not a sensei._

_Doesn't make much of a difference to me. _

_I don't stoop down to low levels._

_Ah, but I thought we were talking as equals here._

_I never said you were an equal._

_You never said I wasn't._

_…I don't lie._

_Meaning…?_

_I don't know what you are. To make a decision now would be lying. _

_…So I'm guessing that training session is still up in the air?_

_Maybe._

Abruptly, Kyokotsu rises to his feet, turns, and walks away, this time for sure, disappearing into the darkness.

And Shunsui feels that some progress has been made.

* * *

As such, after he is rather unceremoniously awakened at the end of class by an irate sensei and met by a frowning Ukitake, Shunsui Kyouraku spends the rest of his day with a wide smile on his face, a smile that has Ukitake asking him what evil prank he has up his sleeve this time around.

He _did_ have a prank in the making, then again, involving the rather lethal concoction of a substance just recently invented in the living world called 'glue', and the chair of one Shigekuni-Genryuusai Yamamoto - who would probably hunt him down and attempt to incinerate him alive for the deed once he managed to…detach himself…from the sticky surprise and inevitably tracked down the reiatsu signature.

But, apart from that, Shunsui could also hear two voices distinctly clearer in the back of his mind, Katen's dulcet tones drawling incessant poetry, and Kyokotsu's occasional snarl or snap of irritation in retort.

Though, through the duration of the day, he realized that he had in fact been hearing those voices all along in his subconscious…which perhaps explained his honeyed tongue with women _and_ his cravings for sake at the oddest of times. For sake, as he discovered that night, helped to in fact dampen the voices somewhat, when the arguing grew rather unbearable.

* * *

A/N: Hmmmmm…rather like with Ukitake, I feel that I've botched the delivery yet again. X.x This just felt…so confusing…but the last one did too…maybe I should read it over once or twice.

-reads over once or twice-

Ahh, I give up. I don't know why I'm so bothered about this one, but I hope it's alright. I really wanted to do Shunsui justice…which might explain my anxiety somewhat…but I'll leave that to you reviewers to decide. :) Apart from this inexplicable discontentment, I think it turned out okay, but by gosh it was _hard_ to characterize Katen and Kyokotsu. Katen's flowery speech was both fun and difficult to write, and as to Kyokotsu…well, I know the general idea is that he'd supposed to be 'crazy', as the second part of the name Katen Kyokotsu ought to suggest, but…I just couldn't _do _it. Call me weird, but I find writing insane characters terribly difficult if not downright impossible. D: So I had to settle with haughty and cold instead…

All the same, it just feels good to be writing about Shunsui's at last. I've been entertaining the urge to submit this thing ever since Ukitake's chapter, but as I've been wanting to keep the order of things as random as possible, I've had to wait. But now it officially exists! :D Sooooo…criticism? Anything? I'm dying to know…

Aaaand…I thank **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **kimi108909**, **Moonrise31**, **wisdom-jewel**, **VioTanequil**, and, last but not least, **hu3long2**, for your reviews! You guys are just…awesome. Awesome awesome awesome. 8D


	9. Defining Of The 'Normal State'

Disclaimer: To be honest, it's probably pointless to even put one in here by now, as any respectable fan fiction writer would already probably know the drill word for word…

* * *

"So this is…the normal state?"

"That's the general idea."

"Really…?"

"Yup."

"…"

"…"

"Ahh, man. You'd think someone would have at least had the decency to _tell_ me…"

"Tell you what?"

"That I'm mentally unbalanced, that's what. I mean, look at this place!"

"Is that a slight to me or a slight to yourself?"

"Does it matter?"

"…Probably not. I'm you and you're me, so yes…I guess that's really a moot point."

"Ne…fair enough. But still…this can't be healthy, can it?"

"I wouldn't know. I suppose you currently _are _feeling healthy, though - otherwise we'd both be floundering in that ocean over there by now. Not a pleasant experience, I can tell you. I may not look like it would bother me, but it really does hurt if you hit the water hard enough…"

"That's not what I meant."

A grin.

"I know."

And Kaien Shiba cannot help but grin back despite himself.

Really, every shinigami should be authorized to at least be _somewhat_ smug about their zanpakuto spirit. Pride was surely an authorized sensation, though, of course, every sensei in the Academy would always go on about 'humility' and how it would take 'many, many years of bonding and communication before you should go about feeling good about it' and other things to that extent. Not that Kaien really cared either way. He'd be proud if he wanted to be proud, dammit. And he had certainly gotten off quite nicely - he knew many a student out there that had ended up with something rather undesirable that in fact truly _did_ reflect the nature of themselves…whatever the hell all that meant. In basic, understandable lingo, there _were_ people out there that had despicable monsters for zanpakuto.

So yes, he considered himself very fortunate, as well as almost giddily happy that the true essence of his soul did, in fact, have good looks, a relatively respectable height, and a very healthy sense of humor.

He could tell that himself and Nejibana would be getting along quite well in the years to come.

Getting a good look at the said zanpakuto spirit - this _was_ his first face-to-face encounter with the guy, besides - Kaien was able to assess several things about Nejibana. Firstly, and mainly, that he was a happy kind of person.

The cheerfulness and goodwill seemed to roll off the man in waves, really - almost in a similar manner to the cloak Nejibana was sporting, a cloak woven of what Kaien could have sworn was water. It billowed and swirled and rippled down Nejibana's shoulders, encasing him in a protective liquid shroud that flickered in the pale sunlight, sometimes a deep navy blue, other times flecked with undertones of emerald and sapphire and even touches of storm-gray and dark violet. At the hems, where the cloak tapered off at his heels, the water changed, swirling and fizzling into silver vapor that coiled skyward, forming small clouds and incense-worthy patterns of mist that dissolved after a few seconds of existence.

Despite this dark and rather unusual shroud, however, it was still obvious that Nejibana was a being of benevolence, a person you could trust. The relaxed way in which he held himself, leaning slightly to one side as though casually balanced on the ball of one foot, and the easy smile on his face…all of these things seemed to say it all.

There wasn't much else to describe about Nejibana, apart from that fact. His hair was wavy, a lighter shade of blue than his watery cloak, and his skin was pale as the white collar of his cloak, equally stark against the dark coloring of his uniform. If anything, he looked like a rather unshaven middle-aged man, sporting rimless lime-green sunglasses that made it difficult to pick out the color of his eyes.

Kaien decided that, as he had predicted, he liked this guy.

Nejibana returned his surveying stare thoughtfully, before his grin widened even more.

"That's one heck of a stare you're giving me." His voice was lighthearted as well, on another note. Pleasantly low in pitch, but quirked in humor. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'd have thought you would already know them." Kaien arched an eyebrow.

"I represent your heart, not the workings of your brain." The spirit made a jest of being offended. "Can't I be allowed to even have an interest in what you're thinking, at least? This is the first non-one-sided-conversation I've had in - well - that I've _ever_ had, actually."

If Kaien hadn't known better, he would have almost thought that the bemused look on Nejibana's face was genuine. As such, the façade was rendered useless. "Well, if you're really that eager to know, I'm just getting an eyeful of you. Wondering whether or not I'm actually mentally unstable."

"Oh, come now, you're not still going on about the…erm…condition…of this place…are you?" An awkward wave of an arm, lifted from the folds of the robe - beneath the cloak, it seemed, Nejibana wore black, some kind of suit, maybe, coupled with black pants. The glimpse was fleeting, however, as the arm was soon lowered, hiding everything else in curtains of water once more.

"I wasn't talking about here." Kaien allowed his grin to widen even more in return. "I was talking about you."

"Oh, that hurts. That really, really does." Nejibana folded his arms, then tilted his head ever so slightly, almost mischievously. "Such a tactless person, you are. I wouldn't be surprised if Miyako decided to drop you for some other shinigami with better looks and manners, eh?"

And now Kaien flushed - vividly, much to Nejibana's delight.

"Oi, that's not even funny! Take that back, you bastard!"

"Not a chance on this side of the pinnacle, my friend - unless you want to prove yourself?" A full-out smile graced Nejibana's features. He laughed, his arms suddenly at his sides, legs tensed. "Well then, catch me if you can!"

And then, before Kaien could so much as blink, the man was gone in a flurry of navy, a swirl of white vapor.

…Jumping away…

"Hey! …HEY! Get back here, you!"

And Kaien pursued.

His inner world, now - Kaien wasn't so sure as to what he thought about that. Sure, it might have been alright given different…alignments, perhaps. If you looked at it the _normal_ way, you would have found yourself beholding a huge expanse of endless, restless ocean, iron gray and choppy. The sky stretching out above was almost similar in color, sporting an overcast of clouds - though, currently, these clouds were being shot through by almost ethereal columns of pale sunlight, prying between the iron folds of frozen mist and touching the land below with a tentative sort of certainty that rumored a clearer day tomorrow. And sprouting from the surface of this ocean were huge…_huge_…pinnacles of obsidian, weathered stone, stone that reached up and up and up, getting thinner all the while and eventually tapering off into a blunt sort of point at the top. The towers were everywhere, filling the area in no particular pattern, and if you looked to the left or right they simply stretched off into the distance with the ocean.

Yes, if you looked at it _that way_, it was really pretty acceptable.

But the problem…the problem was that, strangely enough, a person would find it impossible to look at this place in such a manner.

Because it was _tilted_…completely _sideways_…

…Which made for a totally odd, almost alien environment, and also made Kaien wonder whether or not there was something wrong with his way of thinking - or feeling, whichever sufficed.

And, in short, the _true_ description when you applied the…dimensions…of the area…was utterly different.

The pinnacles of rock became the equivalent of wide, isolated sidewalks that stretched out to the left, towards the sky…which was _also_ on the left, clouds and all, complete with the rays of sunlight, which shown down at a…a _parallel_ angle…and, to the right, there was a distant but solid wall of shifting water that by all means ought to be spilling over _this way_, because that had been the law of physics when Kaien had last checked…and yet it _wasn't_, leaving a person feeling very alarmed and uptight over the whole manner, due to the fact that you kept on getting this nagging feeling that the frozen-yet-moving body of towering water might suddenly and inexplicably _melt_ at any given _moment_ and drown you in its probably-extremely-icy-cold _abyss_.

Despite the strange surroundings, however, Nejibana seemed perfectly at home - though that was probably a given, really. The man leaped from pinnacle sidewalk to pinnacle sidewalk, the long leaps and agile landings easy and relaxed, his watery cloak rippling out impressively behind him, and his speed was such that he could even find time to glance back over his shoulder and cast Kaien a taunting grin every few seconds.

At length, though, he suddenly stopped, the glee fading on his face as he instead waited for Kaien to catch up. Inerrant rage dying down somewhat beneath the somber expression of his counterpart, Kaien paused a few feet away, unsure of what to think.

It was Nejibana that spoke first, and though the mirth was still there, in his voice, it was thin and fleeting beneath his sudden visage of seriousness.

"…You're alright, perhaps. But you're not nearly fast enough. Or strong enough."

Kaien returned the statement with another quirking of his eyebrow. "But I'm quick to temper."

Almost to his relief, that smile returned again, very small and brief, but there all the same.

"Yes, that's true."

"Gotta be a good sign."

"Wouldn't be good in battle."

"Can't help that."

"…No. You can't." Nejibana had the decency to look somewhat amused, at least. Then his serious guise returned. "We're still going to have to try, though. We're going to have to push the limits. If you really want to accomplish this goal of yours."

Kaien smiled, again. "I thought you said you couldn't read my thoughts."

"I don't need to. Your will for it to be accomplished has haunted this place for quite a while, and it has yet to go away."

"Che, should've known that…"

"It's a pretty outrageous thing to aim for."

"But it's worth every try."

They gazed at each other evenly for a moment - they were both the exact same height, permitting eye-to-eye contact.

"…I'll help you, then. I'll teach you what I know, as the need comes. And I'll stay with you even after death if I have to."

Another moment of silence. Which was then effectively ruined.

"Aw, _come on_. Don't get all sappy like that." And here Kaien looked fairly exasperated. "You sound like some sort of angsty hero from those western books Miyako's so fond of…and by the powers I still fail to understand what she sees in those things…"

Nejibana was then truly surprised by the sudden change of tone…but he followed along anyway, laughing.

"We may never truly unlock the mystery that is the woman," he intoned solemnly. "But, I wish you luck in that matter."

"Eh, what's with that off-hand tone of yours?"

"Well, it's not like _I'll_ be affected if you somehow make a stupid mistake and the girl breaks up with you…"

"Oh, for God's sake, what _is_ it with you and Miyako?! Do you actually _enjoy_ writing up worse-case scenarios for me?"

"A person should never get too hopeful. I'm just dampening your ego somewhat, so that it doesn't get completely crushed on the fateful day…"

"Dampening my ass! You enjoy doing it, don't you?! Come on, admit it already! We've gotta learn something about each other in a first encounter with a zanpakuto, so just spit it out, dammit!"

* * *

Reflecting over the meeting later on, when Kaien had finally taken his leave, Nejibana could not help but feel almost giddily delighted over the fact that his counterpart could make such enjoyable company. It was so easy to provoke the boy, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and an iron will that would not be crushed - something that he'd known all along, admittedly, though it was nice to just be able to meet him in person, all the same.

A man that wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to protect those who could not protect themselves…

For, indeed, that was Kaien Shiba's goal, in the end. The goal that had pursued him from the Shiba household, the resolution that had guided him through the contours of the Academy in a single year. The decision that had brought Nejibana's name to his wielder's lips that fateful day.

For that, Nejibana would indeed follow Kaien into the abyss of death.

And he felt authorized to nurture some secret pride in that.

* * *

A/N: Yes, as you have probably already guessed, this theory has been niggling at the back of my noggin for quite some time now. :) I can say that I'm one of those people who overall support the reincarnation theory between Ichigo Kurosaki and Kaien Shiba, so you can take this chapter in any way you will…I'd love to hear some opinions on this matter.

…Yes, I know that Nejibana in fact means 'Twisted Flower' or something to that extent, but…erm…bear with me here, please…just bear with me. -looks around sheepishly- o.o'

On another note, I must say that I really liked Kaien Shiba during what little airtime he ever had. I really, really did. And to be honest, I also truly mourn over the fact that he's dead, because it's such a huge loss, really…he's such an interesting character. T.T I hope his characterization was a least plausible in this chapter, though it was rather difficult to work out due to the scarcity of his appearances, in between being a sad memory and an insane evil Arrancar in disguise. -.-

Anyways, I feel pretty good about this chapter. Did I mention that I suck at humor for the most part? If I haven't I apologize in advance if that aspect didn't come out too well. Nobody's perfect, I guess. D:

And in short, I must also apologize to most of you that might have reviewed last time for not replying back!! TT I'm really, truly sorry, but I haven't had any time to respond to them at all the previous week, and I've had to avoid the Internet due to erratic weather patterns, so…yeah. Again, so very sorry! O.O'

As such, in compensation, I must thank **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **DelMarch**,** kimi108909**, **Moonrise31**, **wisdom-jewel**, **HK-Revan**, **St. Kitsune** twice-over (I've missed ya! Glad to see you're back!), and **hu3long2** for your continued support! This fic would never have come this far without you guys!! :D

Hopefully I'll be able to update soon…but, until then, this chapter shalt now close. :)


	10. Profoundly Immoral or Wrong

A/N: Number ten at last! I never thought this story would make it so far… -sniffle- Ah, the tears of joy…!

Disclaimer: I swear, one day I'm going to steal the zanpakuto presented in this chapter, and I'm going to make it so that I _do_ own the incredible franchise we know and love, Bleach!! You know I will! …Someday…

-glances around slyly-

* * *

"Evil. What a simple term."

It is a casual remark, murmured pensively over a delicate china cup filled to the brim with an opaque, steaming tea.

A comfortable silence persists in the wake of the statement, merging quite well with the relaxed atmosphere of the room. There is a clink as the previously mentioned cup is then placed gently back upon its saucer. The sound is then followed by a soft rustle of clothing and the lightest of thumps as a glass bishop is lifted by a pair of careful fingers and set down once more, several consecutive squares from its original resting spot, cornering a nearby knight at the edge of the board in the process. Then, sitting back, Kyoka Suigetsu laces its fingers, elbows propped on each arm the leather armchair it sits upon, and it speaks again, demeanor utterly serene.

"By all means, I don't see why it should be such a common reference to the terms of wickedness and betrayal, of wrongdoing. There are always far more interesting ways to put it, and yet those who witness it always name it thus - evil." A soft chuckle. "I believe I dislike the word."

Sosuke Aizen taps his chin thoughtfully, ignoring his own tea for the meanwhile and instead grasping the threatened knight gently by its glass head, pulling it out of the line of fire and setting it down directly beside an enemy pawn halfway down the checkered glass board, simultaneously putting an opposing rook in jeopardy.

"That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?" he agrees amiably, briefly tapping the edge of his glasses. The slightest of frowns trails across his features. "It comes into questioning as to whether or not those said individuals even know what the word truly means."

"Indeed. I find it rather appalling."

"There are quite a few appalling things in this world. Such a matter might be considered a moot point in most cases."

"True, perhaps. But my opinion remains unchanged."

The rook is shifted, taking an undefended pawn in the process. The same rook, however, is decapitated shortly afterwards by a bishop sitting unnoticed to the side, awaiting the closing of the trap. Thus the first casualties of the game are taken off the board.

"You're a good player."

"Thank you." Aizen dips his head slightly. "I didn't think I'd be doing this well, actually. I remember watching a demonstration of this game once, but I've never actually played. Such strange concepts, these people of the West have…"

"Notwithstanding, some of their ideas can be quite innovative."

"So it would seem…"

In short, Sosuke Aizen and Kyoka Suigetsu happened to be indulging in a quiet game of chess, utilizing the fates of the glass pieces over periodic sips of tea and an occasional glance out of the balcony that branched off to the left wing of the room. The parlor itself was a picture taken from an European painting - a gleaming floor of dark paneled wood, overlaid by various graceful pieces of wooden furniture, including a moderately low table, the two leather chairs in which they were seated, and a few drawers and cabinets off to one side. The walls were paneled and gleaming as well, strategically adorned my ornately-framed paintings of various sceneries and landscapes. Otherwise the area was quite spacious, the spring sunshine filtering in from the balcony providing adequate lighting and warmth for the room.

And, beyond the balcony, the glimmering waterways and elegant towers of a fifteenth-century Venice, Italy could clearly be seen, the entire scene adorned by a wide expanse of clean blue sky and white cloud above.

This had greatly amused Aizen, in truth. Though unexpected, he supposed that in the end it was a rather tactful decision on the part of his zanpakuto. He had visited this area once in reality, a couple of years back, when a neighboring Soul Civilization had requested military support in the wake of a living-world plague dubbed the 'Black Death'. The disease had killed tens of thousands of humans, and the number of plus spirits - and the resulting hollows - materialized in such a short period of time had grown overwhelming throughout the West, to the point where the Soul Civilization existing there had been spread thin to the breaking limit. Posted in Venice, Sosuke himself had been assigned with a task that, in short, involved performing konso on as many plus spirits as he could find. Rest despite, however, he had taken a liking to the watery city immediately, though in reflection he could say that it might have been a bit more enjoyable without its inhabitants being plagued by a ravaging sickness. If it hadn't been for that slight mar, the place would have been quite lovely.

As such, he found himself rather enjoying this first encounter with his zanpakuto spirit.

Even if Kyoka Suigetsu had currently taken form as a mirror image of himself.

That aspect had been…almost unnerving, at first. The overwhelming impression that he was gazing into a reflective surface, watching himself move when he wasn't moving at all, watching himself speak when his lips hadn't so much as twitched…but after awhile, when the shock had toned down to a manageable amount, he found himself already learning new things from the experience, noticing habits that he had never noted before, glimpsing mannerisms that might be better changed, improved. If anything, such a perspective could come in handy.

But there was still a part of him that felt…disgruntled? A couth word, perhaps, but it illustrated the feeling well enough. Because Aizen knew, in a firm sort of way, that his inner world was not in fact comprised of the waterways of Venice. And, similarly, he knew that his zanpakuto form was not his reflection in the surface of a still pond.

He knew that this scene, beautifully constructed though it might have been, was a blatant lie.

At this point the chessboard was growing quite spacious, each side reduced to approximately half its original strength in numbers. Kyoka Suigetsu's pawn population had taken quite a beating, and it had lost a rook and both knights as well, but such statistics would be rendered equal to Aizen's own predicament, involving a lack of bishops and the loss of his queen. The remaining pieces were now scattered across the shining glass surface, result and victim to the tactical positioning of the last several turns.

Absently twisting a lifted pawn between his fingertips, Sosuke spoke, tone as friendly as ever.

"You seem worthy of your name, Kyoka Suigetsu. This place is exactly as I remember it."

His own face smiled faintly at him.

"You flatter me. But I try, I suppose. You have nice, sharp memories, you know. It's a good attribute. Quick, accurate. It wasn't very hard to replicate the area."

"Or myself, apparently."

Another quiet laugh. Aizen watched as a second pair of his own glasses flashed in the sunlight.

"That was the easiest part, my friend."

The next few turns passed without event. Both sides remained reluctant to lose any more men. Pieces moved, but remained unused. And the tea was cold when Aizen took a quick sip in passing, mouth slightly dry in the wake of his concentration.

Glancing from the interior of his cup to the board set before him, however, brought an eyebrow flying sharply upwards. He set down the piece of china flatly, regarding the gently smiling young man opposite him gravely.

"You rook was not there when you last moved."

And, indeed, a rook was now positioned in an insignificant area of the board, almost unnoticeable, but clearly on a crash course towards Sosuke's own king. One more move, and he would have lost the game.

Kyoka Suigetsu meets his gaze evenly, borrowed face the epitome of surprise.

"Well…"

And, slowly, a true smile broke upon its features. Aizen's features.

"So you noticed after all. That's good. You had me worried there, for a minute…"

Sosuke blinked once, carefully. Then he placed a hand on the table in a casual manner, expression easy as ever.

"I suppose we've both had enough of this game, then?"

His tone was just as amiable as it had ever been, but to those who might know him better, the new note to be found there was unmistakable. And Kyoka Suigetsu had known Aizen from the moment of his birth.

However, it was loathe to back down quite so easily.

"It's not like that, my friend," it objected mildly. "As I've said, you're a good player. And I hate to lose. I really, really do."

"As do I. Yet here we are."

A pause.

"…Show me who you really are. Who I am. That is why we are here in the first place."

This was responded with another smile.

A deadly smile.

It looked strange, inhuman, and yet…fitting…on his own face…

"Are you quite sure about that, Sosuke?"

"Should I not be?"

"Who is there to say that you'll like what you find?"

"Who is there to say that I should?"

Another pair of eyebrows climb into an untidy brown hairline. Kyoka Suigetsu's eyes glint behind the borrowed glasses.

"…I suppose you're right."

With an immaculate sort of precision it rises to its feet, Academy robes rumpled from the long sit-down. Aizen follows its movements.

And the world around them slowly melts away.

* * *

Aizen Sosuke knows that he has always had a…different way of viewing the world. This place of mankind, with all its imperfection and cruelty. Behind his own caring façade there is a black, black hatred of the world and its ways, and a burning scorn for those around him, those people who seem to remain blind to the glaring wrongness of their very existence. And he has always fumed, inwardly, silently, as those fools with their power and their pride nurture the injustice already naturally planted, as the crimes and tears to go unseen and unheard.

He knows that his views go against those of all around him.

Views of a new world, a new power.

And he knows that he is right. That he and he alone has been gifted with the insight, the foresight, and the power, to correct that which has been done, to enlighten all of existence.

Thus, it is with this resolution that he stands serenely, watching the colors of a pleasant illusion as they shred and fade into a void of blackness, a blackness before the truth. He stands, and his resolve is firm that he will look at himself, and he will know he has been right all along, right about everything he has learned of the world. He will embrace his heart, his zanpakuto, without a shred of doubt or regret.

And he steps into the void willingly, confidently, the lingering voice of Kyoka Suigetsu guiding him forward.

* * *

He is not evil.

He is not that simple, unruly four-letter word.

'Evil', is for those ambitious fools that aspire to take over the world.

* * *

A/N: Whoo! Phew!

-wipes sweat from forehead-

-.-'

Okay, don't ask me why, but this chapter took a great deal of effort to write…though at the same time, the words almost flowed from my fingers. Yep. Very, very weird. O.o

Anyways…I find Aizen to be practically a monument of all ironies, even compared to Tosen. Seriously, when you compare his intentions to what he's actually _doing_…just goes to prove that there really is some sort of little fireball of insanity festering behind all the intelligent words and calculated actions.

Rest assured, I don't like the guy. Unsurprisingly. His esteem in my eyes dropped to abysmal even before he went and betrayed Soul Society. I'd always thought something was just…off…about him, in the beginning. Though, like everyone else in the Gotei 13, I could never quite pinpoint it until he went and jumped the gun on us. Sly dog, that one.

-shakes fist at nonexistent Aizen-

Back on topic, I apologize for my uncreativeness with Kyoka Suigetsu. Totally uninspirational, I know. T.T However, when dealing with a character like this one, I just didn't have the heart to tamper drastically with it, considering things. -sigh- Is it just me, or has my creativeness sort of abandoned me recently? A worrying prospect…

And, for any curious about the whole 'Soul Civilization' theory…it's a vague hinting of a plot I've got going for a future fic…

However, moving on.

Unto the Hall of Thanks, I bestow much luv and adoration upon **St. Kitsune**, **Moonrise31**, **hu3long2**, **DelMarch**, **kimi108909**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **wisdom-jewel**, **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, and** rldragon **for your reviews! Without you guys, this fic would have never reached chapter ten!! Again, THANK YOU!!


	11. Ashes On Ashes

A/N: Ahh…it's been a while, hasn't it? D: Yet continue I must…many apologies for the late update and all.

Disclaimer: …Eh? Disclaimer? What disclaimer?? O.o

* * *

"Well! You're certainly a sight for sore eyes, aren't you?"

The sultry voice resounds strangely in the air, alien in the thickness and silence of the atmosphere.

Another voice, puzzled, responds.

"Hm? What do you mean by that?"

And the sultry one returns, warm with amusement.

"Oh, it's probably nothing but a trifle to you. However, it _is_ quite a sight around here…"

"Aw, come on. Riddles on our first day together? I'm disappointed!"

"And there you go into a huff already. Not a very patient thing, are you?"

"I'll be patient when you don't talk in circles so much."

"Is that so? How about this, then? I'll just talk in squares, and then you can be as patient as you want, hm?"

"Oh, Haineko! That's foul play!"

"It most certainly isn't, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I think it is!"

"And I don't!"

"And I…well…oh, can you just tell me what you meant already?"

A purring laugh.

"That was rather quick. I thought you'd have fought back a bit longer than that."

"Love to rub things in, don't you?"

"I try, honey. I try."

A short silence persists, broken only by the soft whisper of drifting ash and the muffled padding of footsteps on a fine carpet of gray. And then the sultry voice rises once more.

"Your hair."

This catches Rangiku Matsumoto off guard, and she pauses for a moment, blinking in surprise.

"What?"

"Your hair, Rangiku. It's most certainly a sight for sore eyes around here."

"My…hair?"

The footsteps, having faltered once, now resume, leaving footprints in their wake, soon to vanish again between a new layer of soot. After a pause, Rangiku tosses her head, so that her strawberry-blonde curls bounce appealingly, catching what little light to seep into the slate of their surroundings and glowing softly. Then she smiles brightly at the ashen apparition pacing beside her.

"Oh, so you noticed! Wow! I didn't know that new shampoo Hinamori-chan gave me would work out so nicely! Though really, I guess that's a given - that girl always had such nice, dark hair, don't you think, Haineko?"

And at this point Haineko's ears twitched slightly, more out of amusement than anything else. It wasn't like she _hadn't_ expected such a response, besides…

"Actually, I think you should stick to the brand you had before, Rangiku. It had a much more effective conditioner, and it goes easier on your curls. Hinamori-chan's was really more suited to Hinamori-chan - her hair is nice and straight, and probably doesn't need quite as much conditioner anyway." Said spirit stops abruptly, and Matsumoto follows suit, her wide smile now replaced by a confused frown.

"You think so?" she began, in a rather bemused matter - and then the other implications sank in somewhat. "But - hey, wait a minute! Haineko, if you didn't mean that, then why -?"

"It's not how your hair _looks_, honey. Simply that it _is_."

"…What?"

"…Not very bright either, are you?"

"Well, it's your fault for getting into those riddles again. Is it really a habit of yours?"

"Is it?"

"_Haineko…_"

"All right, all right, I'm getting on with it, keep your top on. All I've ever meant to say is that you're really such a bright thing…"

"Haineko, you just said that I _wasn't_ bright. If you think that's going to get you back in my good graces…"

"Salvage the details, don't you? Honey, I'm not talking about _that_ bright. I mean, bright as in…you know…color."

"So I'm…bright?" The way Rangiku spoke the word was rather amusing in itself, and Haineko found herself having to suppress a laugh.

"Yes, you're bright. Very bright. The brightest thing to have ever come here before now. You don't get color like that around here."

And for the first time Rangiku finally noticed the way the ashen cat at her feet was looking at her…affixing her with an unblinking gaze, silver-blue eyes glowing like lanterns against her gray pelt. Staring, as though searching for something that might disappear at any given moment.

In a way, she supposed there was due reason behind it. Thinking about it now, she could readily attest to the fact that she was probably like a splash of watercolor against the shades of this inner world of hers. Above and below, on both sides, was ash and soot, soot and ash. Everywhere. Cinders shrouded the ground in a thick gray snow, and clumps of silver powder drifted down from the sky, which was a strange, lighted gray, as if it were a blanket through which a flashlight was shining. As such, because of this, the place was not dark - but it was not light, either. Instead, an odd, muffled glow permeated the atmosphere, strangely comforting and warm. The air was still, not a breath of wind stirring, and thus the flat land that stretched out in all directions appeared to have been untouched by human feet for thousands upon thousands of years - a forgotten clearing at the foot of a weary volcano, perhaps, or the crater-less surface of the moon. And hanging delicately in the air, just out of reach, was the faintest whiff of smoke, the musty scent faintly reminding Rangiku of someplace in a faraway time, a little room filled with sleeping children curled under tattered blankets, crowding as close as they could to the warm, glowing embers of a hearth in the dead of winter.

And then there was Haineko herself - the Ash-Cat, and aptly named. She was a rather large feline - Rangiku had never seen a cat quite as large as this one - with gracefully curving legs and wide paws that didn't leave a trace of a print in the soot where she might have tread. Her body was lean and might have been skinny, but her thick pelt hid such details from view - a pelt as gray and speckled as their surroundings, so that at a distance Haineko would be almost invisible, though the fur seemed strangely loose, almost unkempt - as if it were made of ash itself. Then there was her tail, which stretched out behind her in a leisurely fashion, and her face, relatively petite, with a strangely quirked mouth that was twisted just enough to reveal a pair of sharp, white teeth. She had long whiskers, which twitched and glittered as bits of fallen soot would cling to them, and her ears were constantly active, swiveling from one point to another, as though listening to something nobody else could hear.

And then there were her eyes. The only thing on Haineko's persona that did not match the monochrome slate that seemed to colour everything else in this place. Wide, huge eyes, bright and intelligent…and dangerous. Quite dangerous. Dangerous the way only a free, untamed beast could be.

Dangerous…and…

The thought struck quite out of nowhere, really. In a very sudden burst it all came together - the vast, warm silence of this inner world, the laughing, condescending bantering. Haineko's stare.

Haineko was speaking once more, an ear swerving to address something behind even as she continued where she had left off.

"It's nice to have some company around here, you know. Not that I enjoy your bright hair as much as I let on, of course. But it does get dreadfully boring after awhile. You never talked to me properly until recently, and even then you kept forgetting half the time. I can only listen to your thoughts and whatever you're saying in the outside world. Yes, quite boring indeed…" Her voice faded to a low, musing purr. Almost absently, she lifted a paw and licked it briskly - even her tongue was almost colorless, a pale sort of pink aligning the fur in the right direction. Then, that done, she looked up again, the expression on her features rather suspicious - if a cat could look suspicious in the first place. "Rangiku? You're not talking like you should be."

"…Haineko. Are you lonely?"

The silence that followed was heavy with surprise. Haineko's tail twitched as she stared at her wielder in surprise.

"Sorry?"

Yet when Rangiku returned the gaze, the sheer intense seriousness on her features was enough to surprise Haineko even further. She had known Rangiku wasn't all bubbly laughter and sake madness, but still…

"Are you lonely?"

The question itself took root. Haineko's shoulders bristled - she scoffed.

"Lonely? What are you talking about? Why would I possibly lonely?"

"Oh, I don't know."

And just as instantly, the seriousness had completely vanished as though it had never been there, and Matsumoto was suddenly all smiles once more. She shrugged, and resumed walking. "Just a random thought, I guess. Say, why don't you show me around, hm? Looks like an interesting place you've got here…"

Haineko stared as Rangiku set off cheerfully, the hairs on her back flattening slightly. Then, after a few more moments of perplexed ogling, she slowly rose to her feet and scattered into a cloud of ash, rematerializing beside Rangiku's foot, in favor of trying to catch up via more conventional means.

"Show you around? Well, I suppose if you're interested in dunes of ash, then I guess you could look forward to seeing quite a few…"

"Ooh, dunes of ash? Like the dunes of a desert? Sounds interesting!"

"I get this rather nagging feeling that you're avoiding something, Rangiku…"

"What are you talking about? I'm just happy that we're getting along so well together!"

"…Never mind. I suppose some things are better left unasked…"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Did I ever say it'd mean anything in the first place?"

"Ugh, riddles! You're going to make me hate them now, you know. Why do you like to use them so much when we talk, Haineko?"

"Oh, I use them around _you_ because one day when you wrap up that ambition of yours to become a Lieutenant, you're going to get a crabby genius captain that likes to talk circles around his friends to keep them from worrying about him, of course! Why else would I torture you so? Certainly not because it annoys you so, oh no."

"My, Haineko, you have such cutting sarcasm."

"Oh, I try, honey. I try."

* * *

She knew what it was to be lonely.

It is a…hollow feel. Like you're nothing more than a shadow in a colorful world. Like you were never meant to be there. Like you didn't belong.

And Rangiku reckons that it is probably a lonely existence, being a zanpakuto spirit before your wielder has called your name. Waiting, always waiting…wondering if it would ever happen at all…and that's really quite enough stress for anyone to handle. Of this Rangiku is certain.

She knew what it was to be lonely.

But Gin had been the one that had come…the one that had saved her.

And she'd do the same for Haineko, whether she liked it or not. It was a resolution she made the moment she departed from her inner world and awoke the next morning.

With a grim sort of resolve she clipped her katana to her belt.

She resolved to never leave it anywhere too far away again.

…

And, she supposed, she probably ought to return that bottle of shampoo to Hinamori-chan around mealtime. Goodness only knew the girl probably needed it more than she ever would.

* * *

A/N: …

-sigh-

Okay. I give up. The ending feels awkward as heck, but I've changed it several times, and I'm not about to meddle with it again. Just gonna have to see how this turns out, and that's that. Harumph! :\

Heck, this entire chapter feels weird. It just…feels lacking. Almost forced. Then again, I am now trying to get back into the proper mindframe for this fic, and it's being rather rough at the moment, so I must apologize if this was less great than usual. T.T I don't really know what I think about the way Matsumoto came out in this chapter. It just felt…odd. To be honest, I never really realized just how hard it is to get down Matsumoto's personality, because it truly is quite difficult. I don't think it turned out quite right, but I can't really tell what it is I'm missing, so I'm just leaving that as it is for now. Both she and Haineko felt weird to write but…meh. I'll leave that for you people to decide. :)

Hopefully I'll be getting back into the regular updating bracket, but life's feeling fussy, so to be honest I'm not sure. We'll just have to see how this goes…

On a totally different topic, I'm _finally_ up-to-date with the manga, and…in all honesty, I'm feeling quite terrified about where this is going.

**(Those who do not want to be struck by heavy spoilers, please skip this part.)**

* * *

By gosh, I'm going to pray from the bottom of my heart that nobody gets killed. Because that's really my main concern at the moment…Hitsugaya is up against _Halibel_, who must be at least the third or second Espada, and Matsumoto is being paired off against, like, three of Halibel's Fraccion! And then Ukitake and Shunsui are against Stark, who also might take up position of third or second…I hope with all my might that Ukitake's sickness will give him a chance to fight properly…and then there's Soifon and Omaeda, up against two obviously-strong Fraccion themselves. (And I'm actually worried about Omaeda too, to my own surprise o.O). Nail-biting is thus ensuing. Next week is bound to be nerve-wracking. X.x

* * *

**(Those who have skipped the previous part may return.)**

Anyways…

Thank You's!

**Wisdom-jewel**, **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Kosa Kinoshita**, **rldragon**, **Moonrise31**, **Volital**, and **hu3long2** are all incredibly generous and awesome individuals, whom I cannot thank enough for their support and time. I apologize profusely for not replying to any of you - as I've said before, life's being bossy. Heck, I'm _supposed _to be completeing a biography that's worth, like, forty percent of our English semester grade...and here I am...so...uh... o.o'

-glances around furtively-

Better get on with that. Hopefully I will be seeing all of you again next week. :D


	12. Haven in a Dungeon

Disclaimer: ………………………………

-yawn-

………………………………

…Oh. Oh, yeah. Uhm. Not mine. Mhm.

-continues staring contest with opposing lawyer-

So, uh…got any coffee on ya?

(Officially the most random disclaimer I've conceived yet. O.o)

* * *

"You need not…be perfect…here."

The words flit into being and flicker out as quickly, eaten by the soft whisper of a passing breeze almost as soon as they had been created, so that for all the world it could have merely been a patter of leaves, a plink of water. Yet still, he knew they had been there; that, for the shortest of times, they had been real, and had held meaning.

This place was empty of any visible form of human life.

But he wasn't alone.

No…he was among an entire throng of other individuals.

Their voices rose and fell like a faraway tide; soft, quiet, distant, almost nonexistent. But there all the same. Whispers, thousands upon thousands of whispers…each one a different voice, a different individual, but at the same time speaking the same words, each one meaning the exact same thing. As one, living being with one, multi-chorded voice. It was like standing in the midst of a massive, invisible choir, feeling the passing of each softly sung note as it fluttered by, always straining for the melody, always never quite catching it in time before it was gone forever, swallowed by reality.

And yet, if he stood just a bit stiller, and breathed just a bit lighter, and stopped trying quite so hard, the voices washed over him, and he could snag and understand the words that drifted by.

Reflecting over the matter later, Byakuya Kuchiki found that, ironically, catching the words Senbonzakura spoke was almost like trying to snag a sakura petal floating on a gentle, quickening breeze, always attempting to dance and flit just out of the reach of his straining, eager fingers. Rest assured, the euphoria of actually obtaining one was certainly the same here. As was the difficulty.

Thus he stands, stock still, in the heart of his inner world, and he picks out those six words out of the thick tide that surges over him. And, at the same time, puzzlement follows the defining of the statement.

"Perfect?"

Whispers.

"…No man is perfect. Much less myself. You are mistaken, Senbonzakura."

Another sighing breath of wind, a cool twilight breeze that ruffles the distant leaves far, far above.

"And yet…you try to be…perfect. You try…you try very hard…"

Byakuya frowns.

"To be a noble is not to achieve perfection. It is a matter of etiquette. A requirement."

"So be it, then…" The voices rise again, a distant chant. Possibly amused. Possibly condescending. Possibly mournful. He finds himself unable to tell. The murmur of the leaves blends in the air too well. "But still…noble's etiquette…holds no root. Not here."

His frown deepens.

"I do not understand."

"…You do not need…to stand so straight…or frown so much. It is…safe…here."

"Safe?"

"Yes…safe…to do what you wish…"

"What more would I possibly wish to do?"

"…To show…feeling…perhaps. You…need no façades here…we know your thoughts well…you need not hide them…"

This world is a place of twilit shadows, a realm where the sun rarely rises, the sky frozen in a suspended state of night on the verge of day, and the velvety navy celestial expanse speckled with soft stars always just about to fade into the blush of a morning that will seemingly never come. Thus the world that spreads out beneath this sky is a place of stillness and silence, a huge expanse of silver water predominantly shadowed by the towering profiles of trees…trees that seem old beyond years, unimaginably tall, their dark, gnarled trunks spanning the width of many men standing shoulder to shoulder. Their roots reach down deep, deep into the still silver water, invisible to the world above the surface, while their crowns span high, as high as the highest tower, silver-pink clouds of blooming flower shifting in the soft light of the stars. And it is from these high crowns that that the petals come, each one as delicate and luminous as a dewdrop on a leaf. The petals fall, ever so softly, fluttering gently down through the air, until one's breath is thick with the tears of cherry blossoms. And where the still water is not shadowed by the trees or clouded by fallen petals, one can see the predawn heavens, each swirl and cloud and star reflected perfectly, a mirror image of the expanse above.

The undeniable sensation of being alone here was almost overwhelming. And yet the whispers were still there, blending and drifting among the spiraling petals. It would seem that, indeed, a person could do whatever he wanted here.

But Byakuya Kuchiki did not want to do anything in particular. He was holding no façade. He was hiding no feeling.

"…You are mistaken, Senbonzakura. I have nothing to hide. This is what I am."

"Is…that so?" The chorus seems to grow louder for a moment, almost real. "But there was a time…when the sun was always in the sky. There was a time…when noble's etiquette did not matter. There was a time…when you were happy. And you were not even here…"

Hurt? Loss? Or a simple, weary telling-off? The voices had grown stronger, ever so briefly, but even then he could not read the emotion in them. There were too many…as many emotions as there were sakura petals…

"We _are_ your emotions…Byakuya Kuchiki…we are scattered…we are waiting…for you to pick us up anew…"

He could see himself, reflected in the mirror-like surface of the water stood upon. He could see the pale, stolid, unreadable face that gazed back with empty, coal-black eyes.

He was holding no façade…

This is simply how he is…

"I was a fool when I was young. If that is what you mean."

"…You were a…happy fool." Reproach? "And then they put the world…on your shoulders…a world you did not want…a world you never wanted…"

"It is my duty. It remains my duty. I have no regrets."

"But we do…"

For a moment, he bowed his head.

And then he sighed.

"We have much to learn about each other…Senbonzakura…"

"Perhaps…you need only to learn…about yourself…for you seem to have forgotten…"

"I know who I am."

"And so did we…once…"

"…It has been a pleasure meeting you, Senbonzakura." At length, he finally stirred. Turned. Began to walk away. "I must depart now. I feel my time for meditation is almost gone. I have things to attend."

"…Pick us up…and we will fight for you…remember…"

For a split second he paused - the slightest hitch in an otherwise eloquent step.

A soft, almost indistinguishable ripple ghosted across the silver surface of the water.

Then he continued on, not looking back.

And the whispers rustled, and flitted, and then faded into a soft wind in passing.

They did not arise anew.

* * *

Senbonzakura is patient.

And that is all that is needed in the end, really, when dealing in the mind of Byakuya Kuchiki.

Patience.

For, rest besides, what does one really expect a caged bird to do, when the cage is opened, and the path to freedom is suddenly and abruptly opened and free for the taking? If the bird has been caged recently, then of course it will immediately fly out, and fly away, because it still remembers how to traverse the sky, and find its way home, and live its life again. But a bird that has been caged for a long while will hesitate, for it has been many years since it has spread its wings, its home is nothing more than a distant memory, and its life without its caretakers seems difficult and terrifying now.

But in time…eventually…the bird will fly free. Perhaps hesitantly, perhaps with trepidation and fear, but at the same time with a resolve to try it one more time, to give it a chance…to take back that joy that had been lost before.

Senbonzakura knows that they alone cannot free Byakuya Kuchiki from the shackles of a noble family. But they also know that, if they cannot provide a door for the cage, they can at least put a little reminder of home, a little taste of the sky, within the dungeon.

And, in the end, it will be down to Byakuya to decide whether to take it or not.

But, of course, he will, the salvation-starved bird that he is. Perhaps with a tight mouth and slightly flushed cheeks, and denial every step of the way.

But he will.

…Eventually.

And Senbonzakura will do all they can to protect him until that time comes.

* * *

A/N: Yes! Finally, a chapter I feel somewhat content about. :D

As has been shown, I'm one of those who believe that Senbonzakura is not one entity, but many, multiple entities with the same mind and purpose - during his battle with Ichigo in the Soul Society arc, Byakuya refers to Senbonzakura as a 'they'. Not a 'he'. Or a 'she'. So, being the tenacious writer I am, I latched onto that hint like a rabid plot bunny…and thus the chapter was born. Of course, I could still be wrong, but hey. -shrugs- Then again, the multiple reference makes some of this sound a bit awkward, such as the last section of this chapter, but I'm still happy. :) So there! Bwahaha!!

Ehm…feeling kinda sleepy today. -.- Pardon any…weirdness in this chapter, if there was any. A woozy brain makes for precarious typing. If I'm mistaken about anything, people are free to let me know. I'm honestly too happy to care at the moment.

Anyway, on to the thank-you's!

**Cymru na Alethaira**, **wisdom-jewel**, **rldragon**, **St. Kitsune**, **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **Moonrise31**, **crap-lordess**, **hu3long2**, and **Alliriyan** (three times over 8D) are all thus bestowed with tokens of thanks! And thus the body of bold is slowly growing…


	13. Upon First Impression

A/N: Turns out he was worth worrying about after all. O.o

Disclaimer: In no shape, size, form, color, width, height, weirdness, or awesomeness do I own Bleach - or any of its characters - or zanpakuto spirits - or anything else.

Ya. Bummer.

* * *

"This? _This?!_ …Do the fates mean to tell me that _this_ - this fat _fool_ - is my long-awaited master?!"

"Oi, you quit talking like I'm not even here! I heard that! And you've got no grounds to say that about _me!_ You aren't so great yourself, if you ask me!"

"Is that intended to be an insult…?! How _dare_ you?! The only fat slob to be found around here is _you_!" Quite clearly upset, it was with a great flourish that Gegetsuburi threw his five pairs of arms skyward. "I wait fifty-three years for _this_?! For _you?! _…This must be some kind of mistake! Who are you, and how did you get here?! What have you done with my _real_ master?!"

The recipient to this outraged inquiry puffed up indignantly, flabby features contorting into a guise of huffy anger.

"If you must know, you disgusting fiend, my name is Marechiyo Yoshiayamenosuke Nikkotaroemon Omaeda!!" He paused for a moment, taking a large gulp of air - saying so many syllables in one breath could be trying for the lungs. Then, having fully recovered, he plowed onward with his offence, raising a fist for good measure. "Eh? _Eh?!_ How d'you like _that?! _That good enough for you, you five-headed golem?!"

The said golem stumbled backwards as though he had been physically struck.

"No! _Noooo!_ It can't _be!!_" One of the five faces branching out from his multiple throats glared at the pudgy, ugly, and much shorter shinigami before it.

"But you can't deny it, and you know it!! Only the _real_ me would be able to remember my full name - and pronounce every bit of it _correctly_!" If possible, Marechiyo puffed up a little bit more, anger replaced by pride. "Nobody else has ever been able to do that! No one! And you know what that means, Gegetsuburi! Accept it! _Admit it!!_"

All five muscular faces swung back and forth in a vigorous shaking of heads. Gegetsuburi remained in denial.

"But - but it isn't _fair! _I've been reading your thoughts for ages!" One massive hand was uplifted, pointing an accusatory finger at Omaeda. "I was expecting a berserker! A _warrior!_ A man who could at least _defend_ himself!" The finger began to quiver with rage. "I thought you'd be a _respectable_ shinigami - and all this time - I was reading the thoughts of - of _you!_"

And Marechiyo's proud mood evaporated instantly.

"So you're saying that just because I'm - I'm _well-fed_ - you think I suck?! Eh?! Is that it?!"

"Took the words out of my mouth!"

"But - but that isn't _fair!_"

"You tell me!"

A glaring contest ensued.

Needless to say, this first encounter between sword and wielder was not exactly one of the more…agreeable ones.

With the majority of the argument temporarily halted, Marechiyo's inner world reveled in a temporary silence. The ground was gray, stony, devoid of plants, and ruined buildings were scattered all over - some sort of abandoned alpine village, perhaps. In addition, the air was quite cold and clear, so that any one sound was suddenly projected and magnified, resounding echoes ringing for quite a few seconds afterwards - and, as such, the argument between Gegetsuburi and Omaeda had been equivalent in volume to a great stampede of buffalo. With words now briefly ceased, however, the silence was heavy - almost as if it were supposed to be broken here, almost as if it was not normal for such an absolute hush to be there.

Marechiyo supposed a giant, hulking thing like Gegetsuburi broke that silence daily with ease. The spirit was about nine feet tall, a pillar of coal-black skin and hulking muscles, and though he only had one pair of legs, he had five pairs of arms, all ten wrists adorned by a metal-spiked band apiece, and five heads, each one with its own expression, though each one apparently had an extremely loud voice. From what he had witnessed during the argument - or kind of noticed in passing, actually - Gegetsuburi seemed to use each of his faces to speak one word, which made his use of full sentences a rather strange spectacle to behold.

Big. Scary.

Could probably kick ass.

…Ugly, though. Real ugly.

Gegetsuburi's ten eyes narrowed threateningly.

"What are you thinking?! You're thinking something! About _me!_"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking over how ugly you are."

"Was that an _insult…?!_ How _dare _you! Calling _me_ ugly! Have _you_ ever seen your face in a mirror?! Oh, but then again, of _course_ you haven't! They would always shatter in your sheer presence before you could get a good look at yourself!"

A vein popped in Omaeda's forehead.

"You say that again to my _face!_"

"Yeah?! Well, I just _did!_"

"Then say it again!"

"Fine! You're _ugly! _Ugly, ugly, _ugly, ugly,_ UGLY, UGLY, _UGLY!_"

Two veins popped in Omaeda's forehead.

Gegetsuburi pounded on relentlessly, his huge voice repeating over and over millions of times in the resonant air.

"In fact, you're so _UGLY _that I'm surprised nobody's screamed and run from you yet! You're so _hideous_ that I'm surprised Yumichika Ayasegawa hasn't already _killed_ you for blemishing this poor, poor earth with your horrid _unsightliness!_"

Four veins popped in Omaeda's forehead.

And, predictably, he snapped.

Violently.

"_YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU LAME, BRAWNY EXCUSE OF A ZANPAKUTO!!_"

"_NEVER!!_" Gegetsuburi roared.

"_OH YES YOU WILL!!_"

"_OH NO I WON'T!!_"

"_YES!!_"

"_NO!!_"

"_YES!!_"

"_NO!!_"

"OH YEAH?! WELL THEN, TAKE _THIS!! AAAAAARGH!!_"

If one was to watch the whole thing from a distance, a huge explosion of dust and rock would be seen, followed by much bellowing and shouting.

* * *

"Hmmmm…"

"Ah, spit it out already."

"Well, I _guess_ you're the real master…nobody's ever knocked me down like that before…"

"Of course not." A nostril was picked, and a booger was flicked out onto some unfortunate stone not far from them. "Only a person with my kind of physique would be able to do it, y'know."

"Marechiyo…"

"Oh, all right. Fine. I guess you're…you're a pretty good zanpakuto too."

"That's right."

They were both sitting on the ground at this point, the collapsed rubble of various ruined buildings that had been destroyed during their tussle now lying scattered and broken around them. They were back to back, refusing to look at each other, with various cuts and bruises adorning both of them.

It was Gegetsuburi that broke the silence once more. For once, the golem's voice was pensive rather than outraged, though the loudness of his voice…or voices…was no less diminished.

"What I still don't understand, though, is how you could look like…like _that_…when your thoughts are so…so…"

"Beserkerly?" Omaeda filled in, a tad hopefully.

"…So _not_ like you," Gegetsuburi finished. Unseen, Omaeda pouted.

"Well, it's not like brains ever matched brawn. I don't have to look good to be strong, y'know."

"Hm…guess not…"

"Not 'guess not'! Of course not!"

"Fine, fine! However you want to put it!" Gegetsuburi placed three fingers on his sharp chin. "I guess this means that you can't judge a book by its cover, can you?"

"What? What kind of a lame moral is that?"

"Hey, I don't know! I just heard it somewhere…or you did…or something like that…"

Thus the night slogged on - a night in which Marechiyo Omaeda found that he had never had such a good opponent in the profession of snide remarks, and Gegetsuburi found that not all fat and flabby and ugly people were actually the weaklings they made themselves out to be.

And it was also thus that the first impressions either had garnered from the other were thrown out the window, hopefully never to be viewed or thought of again.

…Though there was no guarantee that they would be forgotten, unfortunately.

* * *

A/N: Uh…yeah…so…

Was anybody else rather thrown for a loop with the way the most recent manga chapter unfolded? Because I myself was sure as surprised as hell. Seriously, I thought Omaeda would be flattened like a pancake by his opponent, but…the flattening sort of flipped the other way around… O.o Makes you wonder if he's just been hiding all those abilities all along…though, then again, it could have been a fluke, the spur of the moment, or sheer, dumb luck. We may never know. 8/

Anyways, I'm not really sure how this chapter became what it was. I'm sure it would have turned out different, I swear…but then Gegetsuburi started going on his ugliness rant, Omaeda blew several arteries, and…well…there you have it. -.-' I suppose this is what they call it when a fic sort of 'runs away with all the wild insanity of a Mexican jumping bean'.

…

-sigh-

Hopefully, however, the message somehow got itself across…though I have no idea whether the intention was still there by the end of it…so ya. Here you have it.

Just gonna have to sit back and await the feedback, I guess…

Anyways…

To **D R A G O N L I L I E S** (coffee candy, eh? -drool-), **St. Kitsune**, **KawaiiRiniBunny**, **Moonrise31**, **wisdom-jewel**, **Briannabanana79**, and **Cymru na Alethaira**, many gifts of utmost gratitude are distributed! May your wishes come true and your dreams become real! May you experience eternal happiness and find the Fountain of Youth! And…uh…may you experience lots of other wonderful stuff! Yeah! :D Once again, I find myself unable to reply to you all in person, but just bear with a horribly busy hostess for just a bit longer. -sweatdrop-


	14. Obsolete Conversation

A/N: Ah, crap. I'm late! Very, very late! Off by a week, probably. -.-' I dunno, I haven't been keeping track, which makes it all the more criminal. -shakes head- There aren't enough words to express my deep apologies to all of you for making you wait so long. But, hopefully, all that will be in the past! Here it be, another update! Though I'm afraid this isn't your request yet, **St. Kitsune**, and once again I'm terribly sorry. I'm still trying to dig up a good beginning for the character in mind, but until then I'll be improvising. Hopefully I'll be able to do him soon, though! :)

Disclaimer: Once again, Bleach is not mine to claim for my own. But by gosh, I'd love to. Who wouldn't?

* * *

"…Um…Hinamroi-san…Hinamori-san? Are you all right? Please, Hinamori-san, wake up…"

Rocking, bobbing. Up, down. Swish swish. Splash splash.

The semi-mantra drifted lazily through her mind for awhile, and she embraced it absently, reveling in its simplicity and strangeness. It was a lullaby, a childhood rhyme, leading her away to a place of nonsensical dreams and laughter. However, instead of falling deeper into the darkness she was shrouded in, it seemed to grow brighter, like a lure, leading her out, up, higher and higher. Rocking, bobbing. Up, down. Swish swish. Splash splash. And, indeed, it felt like she was rocking and bobbing, gently, over and over, going up and down and up and down. She could almost hear it, too, the swishes and splashes.

"Oh, Hinamori-san…oh, what have I _done_?! I have hurt Hinamori-san! I am a disgrace, a failure! Oh, what am I going to do now? What if she never wakes up? Wh…What if I _killed_ her?! Oh, no! No no no! That would be terrible! Hinamori-san! _Hinamori-san!_"

Killed…? No, she wasn't dead, not at all. Of course not. Silly dream. She was only sleeping. Smiling faintly, she spoke to the darkness, reassuring it.

"Oh, I'm not dead," she murmured softly, and she raised an arm that she couldn't see, and yet knew she had. "I'm alive, see? Nothing to worry about! I'm fine…"

"Oh!"

There was a sharp intake of breath, somewhere nearby, and she felt her smile fade slightly, replaced by a perplexed frown. The dream did not sound reassured at all. It sounded alarmed now, alarmed and anxious. That wouldn't do. Not at all. But suddenly the rocking and bobbing seemed to be growing realer, stronger, and…wait a minute. There was something hard, beneath her back. And that sound…the swishing and splashing…it was getting louder, clearer.

Was this really a dream?

"Mmmm…"

The sound crept reluctantly out of her throat, ringing in her own ears, drowsy and disoriented. Had that really been her? Oh, but the darkness was thinning now, growing lighter by the second, and suddenly all of her senses were wide awake, alert. She could feel it as she rose up and down, as though she were in a boat bobbing in water, and the hard thing against her back felt rough and chafed against her robes. The unmistakable hiss and splash of water soon met her ears, and she also felt a pressure against her shoulder…a small hand, grasping it tightly.

Momo Hinamori's eyes snapped open.

She still had one arm raised skyward, though it was growing quite numb now.

With a very sudden movement, more out of instinct than anything, she let it drop immediately, and it thumped rather hard against the solid substance she was lying on top of, making her flinch slightly. At the same time, however, the pressure immediately vanished from her shoulder, followed by a small yelp as whatever had been holding it swiftly backed away several paces.

Still trying to clear her rather fuzzy vision, Momo blinked several times, feeling bemused. She felt…strangely sore, but it was a detached sensation, as if her entire body was extremely numb and couldn't register all of the aches properly. However, this did not seem to hinder her motor abilities, as she found herself able to pull up into a sitting position quite easily.

Looking around, she rubbed her head.

"…Where am I…?"

"Um…you are inside of your inner world, Hinamori-san."

The voice grabbed her attention immediately - it was very small, timid, and for some reason very meek. Once again she found herself having to look around for the source, and for awhile it seemed she would never be able to find it. Her surroundings were strangely dark, almost twilit - there was solid blackness to her left and right - the walls of a building, perhaps - but straight ahead she found herself looking at a stone floor that stretched forward for some time, and then abruptly crumbled away to reveal a vast expanse of dark water, dotted with other floating, fragmented stone buildings - and it was all overlaid by the vast sky beyond, shrouded in clouds lit from behind by…a red and orange sunset.

And the whole structure was bobbing rhythmically with the waves. Up and down. Up and down.

Most certainly this was one of the most bizarre and…strangely beautiful surroundings that she had ever found herself within. If anything, she would have stared for quite awhile with her mouth slightly open, just letting it all sink in, but there was that voice to consider…and the small silhouette that now stood directly ahead mere feet away, shifting slightly, as though exceedingly uncertain. From this angle most of it was thrown into shadow, but Hinamori thought she could vaguely make out two wide, dark eyes staring at her, eyes that reflected the dying sun's rays in tiny little orange stars - possibly the only reason they were visible at all. Even as Momo watched, the said silhouette shifted slightly, and a ripple of dark red fabric could be seen at last as the person cautiously took a small step forward, anxiety perhaps getting the better of it.

"…Are you feeling okay, Hinamori-san?"

Momo stared a little longer, and then her brain finally began to shift back into gear. She resumed rubbing her head, where her palm had previously come to a standstill in her awe.

"Ah…um…" She blinked a few more times, for good measure. And then she finally managed to snag her tongue, winning back her ability to speak coherent sentences at last. "Well…I'm all right…I guess…" She paused. "…But…where am I, again?"

What with the new position the silhouette had taken up, she could now almost get a proper look at it, half of its form now lit with the fading sunlight behind. It held the guise of naught more than a small child, possibly about a foot shorter than herself, shrouded completely in a dark red cloak with a hood thrown up to conceal its face in shadow. But its voice was young and female when it spoke again, the tones still extremely timid, and any intimidation factor that it might have harbored was almost instantly thrown out the window.

"You are in our inner world. Or - or _your_ inner world. …Yes, that's right."

"My…inner world…?" Momo decided to stare some more, letting this information sink in, as she was currently feeling slightly heady for some reason or another. She could have almost compared it to that one time when she had accidentally downed a couple of dishes of sake left lying around by Kira after a training session one time, having mistaken them for water in her haste and thirst. However, her thoughts left this reminiscence as quickly as they had come, the information having finally found a lockhold. And her eyes slowly grew wider and wider. "…Come again?"

The child shifted uncomfortably. She now seemed more anxious than ever.

"Um…are you quite all right, Hinamori-san? You are not…injured in any way, are you?"

"…No. No, I feel fine. Just…sore." Though Momo still felt as though something were slowing down her senses, it did seem that reality was taking a firmer and firmer hold on her. Wincing slightly, she decided to try standing on her own two feet - and she managed to succeed, with a slight wince. Now completely upright, she took a moment to get accustomed to the swaying of this…structure…and tried taking a couple of steps forward, towards the child. Several times her balance nearly gave way, but soon she found herself able to navigate without too much hazard. She stopped short a small distance from the cloaked individual, curiosity and concern beginning to revive as her personality reached its overall recovery. "But I think we should be more concerned about you. What's your name? _You're_ not hurt, are you?"

There, now she had a better view of this person. At this angle, a single shaft of sunlight could just barely penetrate the shadow beneath the red hood, and Hinamori found herself looking into those wide, dark eyes - eyes so dark, she could detect no visible pupil. That, and the dark curls bordering either side of her face, tucked away neatly into the hood so they wouldn't spill out freely into the open.

The girl stared back at her, her gaze solemn.

"No, I am not injured at all, Hinamori-san. It is my fault that you were injured - I do not deserve such attention. I should be punished for my terrible crime."

Momo stared at her in surprise. "Punish you? Oh, but why in the world would I do something like that? You're only a child! And besides, what would you possibly mean by that? I don't remember…" And then Momo paused, bemused expression arising once more. "I…don't…" She looked around once more - at the shifting ocean and the clouded sunset, the ruined building they stood upon.

If possible, the girl bowed her head even more.

"If you would pardon me for my insolence, Hinamori-san…I brought you here myself, when you were knocked out. I - I did not know what else to do. I felt so terrible for my awful deed…"

"Knocked out?" Momo frowned at her. "And…_you_ brought me here? But…that doesn't make any sense at all." She paused, considering. "…Is this a dream?"

The girl stared back, just as blankly.

"I…I don't know. Is it?"

"I don't know either." Rather mystified, Hinamori took a moment to consider the situation. She couldn't really remember how she had gotten here at all…combing through her rather hazy memory, all she could really remember was…shouting…yes, Kira and Renji! A mission…patrol in the living world…and a Hollow! A Hollow…and…fear? Joy? An…explosion?

Combined, the brief images still made no sense whatsoever, and even then they seemed to have no connection whatsoever to this place, or this little girl.

The child. The child had told her that she had…brought her here. But how?

Momo gazed at the girl, perplexed. The girl gazed back, the detectable expression in her eyes rather neutral. This girl…perhaps she held the answers. She seemed to know what had happened - and blamed herself for it, for some reason or another. And…she even knew her name! The realization struck quite suddenly, bringing a new wave of surprise. Momo could not recall having ever met this child before.

Something in the back of her head nagged insistently, telling her she was missing something important in this equation, that she was overlooking what might have otherwise been a blatant fact. However, her rather scrambled bearings could not fully grasp on those implications quite yet, and didn't seem about to anytime soon.

Oh, well. Perhaps she should settle on the basics for now. To follow along with the situation, and see how everything turned out. For starters.

"Um…well, if this is a dream, than I guess there's not much we can do about it, right?" she began, settling on a bright outlook. "So, in the meantime, maybe we could…get to know each other! Yes, that's what we'll do!" She smiled brightly. "So…you already know me, I'm sure. But what's your name?"

The girl gazed at her for a short while - rather strangely, actually - and then there was a slight movement as she slightly bowed her head.

"My name is Tobiume."

"Tobiume?"

The nag in the back of her head intensified, practically shouting something, but once again she could not identify its words. Though the name did sound strangely familiar, almost thrilling, as she spoke it. Tobiume.

"Oh…what a…strange name." She couldn't help but make a puzzled face at the sound of it. She just couldn't. "I mean…I hope you don't mind, but…I don't much like plums." Oh, now why had she gone and said that? It sounded so rude now!

But the girl - Tobiume - merely bowed her head some more. "Yes, I know," she replied, in her small voice. "I am not quite sure why my name would be…that…but I believe I might have status as the manifestation of your anger. Then it would make sense."

How this girl might have possibly known _that_ was an even greater mystery - coupled with the strangeness of that most recent statement - but then, if this really was a dream, that would be normal…right? Pushing those thoughts aside, Momo instead decided tried to carry on this…strange conversation to the best of her ability. At least until she woke up. She'd have to tell Shiro-chan about this dream sometime - it was so odd! One of the oddest she'd ever had.

"Oh, I don't like plums, but I don't…get angry at them. If that's what you meant."

"No, I guess you don't. You're too kind to get angry at a fruit." Tobiume coupled this with a shake of her head, as though this were an obvious fact that anyone ought to know. "You get angry at things that are unjust, or cruel. Like Hollows." Her voice took up a strange tone. "And that is why I am named Tobiume, I think. To help you release that anger. …Right?"

And here she looked up, genuine inquiry in her dark eyes.

Momo looked back blankly.

"Well…I…I wouldn't know. Is it?"

"…Are you really alright, Hinamori-san?"

"I think you already asked me that before, Tobiume! I'm perfectly all right, so you don't need to worry anymore." Though this response from Tobiume was certainly not what she had bargained for, Hinamori decided to opt for another bright smile. Little children always seemed to like those, even Shiro-chan, though he'd never admit to it, of course. "Besides, if this is a dream, I'm sure I'll be fine! Unless it's a nightmare, but you don't seem like a nightmare, so I think we're safe! Right?"

Tobiume stared at her expressionlessly for the longest of times. And then, quite suddenly, she turned around, as if suddenly opting to face the sunset.

"…Yes, Hinamori-san. You're…right. I guess."

* * *

Tobiume knew it had been a terrible crime, blasting her own Master like that. She knew she deserved these consequences.

Hinamori-san had called her name, yes. Hinamori-san had indeed been in danger. That Hollow had been so _close_…and Tobiume had never felt so anxious to rise to her Master's aid…she had wanted to badly to do _something_…and when her Master had somehow summoned her identity at last, the eagerness had gotten he better of her.

Shameful, shameful.

The Hollow had been quite literally obliterated, yes. But the blast - the combined force of her Master's strength and Tobiume's own rage - had also possibly taken out several buildings, and other nearby shinigami as well - including Hinamori-san herself.

And now Hinamori-san was unconscious, and here she was, in their inner world, and…and she didn't even _realize_ it.

For it was quite obvious that Hinamori-san really had no idea that Tobiume was her zanpakuto - that this was really her inner world.

And Tobiume knew it was all her fault.

Thus, she supposed, that _real_ legendary first conversation between zanpakuto and wielder would have to wait for another day.

And, until then, this current one could be considered as…obsolete.

Or something like that.

* * *

A/N: Tobiume means something akin to flying plum tree. _Flying plum tree._

o.O''

As you might have guessed, this definition threw me off for quite some time. And, in the end, I just couldn't do anything with it, so instead I decided to make do without and see what happened. I really don't know how the results came out, though…this is probably one of the longest chapters I've posted for this fic yet (approximately five pages overall), and I'm not sure if I have the right…feel to it or not. After rewriting it several times, this was the best outcome. Meh. :\

Sooo, anyhow…it's occurred to me that there may be times when first conversations may not _always_ pull off properly - and this is one of those cases, made considerably easier due to the fact that Tobiume apparently specializes in explosions - lots of them. Like, blasts capable of cratering stone floors and whatnot. And hey, it might not have come off perfect the first time, right? Wouldn't that kind of power be hard to control at first, if not at least somewhat? Thus, voila, this chapter was created.

I don't know why, but for some reason I found Hinamori's character rather hard to pin down properly, so I must apologize if it seems a bit off. Apart from that…well, everything seems okay overall, if not a bit confusing. -.-'

And now, on to Thank You's!

**wisdom-jewel**, **D R A G O N L I L I E S**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **hu3long2** (two in a row! 8D), **Moonrise31**, **St. Kitsune**, **rldragon** (twice over as well - you guys are awesome!), and **zackubernerdcondon** are now added to this list of extreme and utter gratitude. I mean, seriously, _92_ reviews! I can't thank you all enough! :D


	15. Silver Bell

A/N: Yeah. It's been awhile. Um.

…Please don't hurt me? *braces for flying tomatoes*

Seriously, I'm so sorry for the terrible update delay. All the ideas just flew into limbo and wouldn't come back for the longest time. D: But I figured that, seeing as it's Christmas and all, I might as well _try_ to write up something for all of you and thank you for your continued support. _101 reviews!!!_ It's like a dream come true!! So…hopefully it comes out alright. *sweatdrop*

…Goodness, this is awkward…

Uh…enjoy? Please? O_O

*is extremely nervous*

Disclaimer: We all know the drill! Uh, no, not the drop and roll…y'know, the other one. Yeah, that one.

* * *

"It's about time."

The voice is clean, pure. A frosted silver bell, each note heart-wrenchingly resonant, and yet distant, a toll from a tower high above the clouds.

Whiteness. Everything, white. An ambient white, moving, constantly shifting, a curtain encompassing all of the air. More impenetrable than the deepest fog.

And cold. A deep, crystalline cold, the kind of cold that has never been felt or breathed by any other living soul. A cold that seemed to strike down through bone, into the heart, permeating one's very breath with a silver chill.

She raised a hand, and the rush of snowflakes chased across her palm, incredibly light, almost nonexistent, and yet there. She could feel them, even now, brushing against her cheeks, flitting through her hair, swirling all about her, the whiteness closing in like a protective shroud. Taking a step forward, her foot sank into a soft, fluffy blanket, unimaginably cold, so cold it refused to melt, to become damp, as snow should do. Yet this cold did not bite into her bare soles, her exposed hands and face, but rather seemed to flow into them, merging into her bloodline, breathing a freshness into her every muscle, a mint rush.

She couldn't see a thing in the whiteness, this solid wall of blinding, swirling light. There was only the rush of the wind in her ears, the fleeting touch of the snowflakes, the softness of the ice beneath her feet.

And the voice. The white voice, its bell-like tones rippling through her with its incredible pureness. It was almost painful to listen to, striking her ears with its powerful finality and beauty, each note breaking into sound with the force of an ocean wave upon a shore.

_Almost_ painful.

If anything, Rukia Kuchiki supposed that, to anyone else, it probably _would_ have been painful. In a wonderful, heart-breaking sort of way.

But it wasn't to her. Because…because this was her zanpakuto.

Sode no Shirayuki.

And the joy of the realization slowly began to steal through her, a cold warmth that was just as nice as the feel of the frost that permeated her surroundings.

She had finally done it.

She was _here_.

"You do not seem to speak half as much as you think."

And thus it arose again. Rukia raised her head, eyes raking the white. Her zanpakuto spirit, it must be. But…

"Where are you?"

Her voice was almost instantly swallowed by the whiteness, muffled into a distant cry from a faded memory. It was rather alarming. Yet Rukia continued on despite, the pleasant feeling of accomplishment suddenly beginning to meld into that of slight irritation, and fear. She hadn't come this far to give up now…right?

She called once more, raising her voice.

"I can't see you!"

The increase in volume seemed to have no effect as the flying snow shattered the outcry into a thousand pieces and scattered them into the wind, faint and lost. Yet at last the voice replied, rendered even more wholesome than before in comparison to her own feeble vocal attempts, resonating all around her as if it had no direction. It was tinted in amusement.

"Ah, but you can't see _anything_."

"I - well, yes, I'm aware of that!" Rukia found herself already irritated and surprised at the same time. She hadn't thought such a pure voice would be capable of being…annoying. It had shattered the entire eerie effect. Vaguely, she wondered if it had been on purpose or not. "But - can't you at least show yourself? I want to see you!"

"One must first see herself before she can truly see others."

"…What?"

"Exactly what I said." The voice had assumed a sagely inflection, which suited it more…to a degree. "And, rest besides, I cannot show myself to you now. You are not ready yet."

"Not ready?" Dismayed, Rukia stared at the rippling whiteness in front of her, for lack of anything else to look at. "What else must I do? I'm here already, aren't I? I found your name. …I awakened you!"

"True, true," the voice agreed. "Yet still, I cannot. It is rather surprising that you can already hear me speak without clapping your hands over your ears in agony, but even that accomplishment is clearly a borderline thing. If I were to reveal myself to you now, it would probably do more harm than good. Your eyes would not fare well from the encounter."

"So you mean to tell me that you're…too beautiful?"

"Well, yes, if you'd rather put it that way."

Rukia gazed incredulously at a space in the immediate vicinity of her line of vision. Sode no Shirayuki had been admired by many as a sword for its elegance, yes, but…she had never thought her inner soul would be this…vain…

"I am not vain!" the voice cried suddenly. The tones were hurt, dancing on the borderline of indignant, and Rukia almost jumped. It was like the clang of a war bell, and though it was still distant, her ears throbbed slightly all the same. "Is it vain for a swordsman to warn a thieving peasant of the sharpness of his blade? Is it vain for a cook to warn his customers of the heat of his soup? Is it vain for a king to inform a stranger of his status? Naught! I merely speak the truth, with concern for your own well-being! There is no vanity in that!"

"No, no, of course not!" Well, there was one thing to learn. Her zanpakuto obviously did not like that term. "I'm…sorry for saying…thinking…that. I didn't mean to insult you or anything like that, really. I was just surprised."

"And what exactly were you expecting, then?" The clamor was gone, and a serene silver bell had returned, tolling gently in a faraway chapel, informing listeners that all was well again for a time.

Glad to have escaped that inconvenience, Rukia confronted this new question somewhat cautiously.

"Well, I don't know, actually." Honesty was probably the best option. "But…I do think it's wonderful here. Even if I can't see you. It's…peaceful. Like I…can rest and not have to worry anymore."

And that was the truth, really. Already, Rukia found that the whiteness was becoming less of a burden and more of a comforting thing, a barrier against anything that may lie ahead or behind, and the cold was invigorating and restful at the same time, settling comfortably in her limbs in a way she had never known possible. The gentle touch of the fluttering snow also gave her that sense of reality she needed to know that she was not alone, in this vast, empty whiteness.

It was really almost like she was…

"Home, is it not?"

Sode no Shirayuki's voice had grown very soft and wistful, and Rukia found that the tone finally suited this voice perfectly. It was sincere now, not a trace of joke to be found.

"Yes," Rukia agreed, just as quietly…and she was surprised when her voice lifted, as though buoyed by the rushing wind, and resonated clearly, just like her zanpakuto's. Not quite as pure and clean, perhaps, but it rang just as truly.

"I see you are already learning the laws of this place. That is good." There was a touch of pride in the voice now, warming it ever so slightly. It paused, and then continued, in a somewhat bemused manner, almost thoughtful. "I have watched your plight from afar for a long time, Rukia. Your search of a place that would be safe from things that hurt. Your dismay as the years stretched on, and you had yet to find it." Sadness suddenly permeated the crystal tones, a lonely toll in the dead of night. "I wished I could speak with you, then. To comfort you, to let you know that you had a place right here, all along. Yet you could not hear me, and I dared not raise my voice louder. I was so afraid that I might hurt you even more."

The smooth movement of the wind seemed to slow and flicker slightly, flakes of snow twirling in uneven puffs and swells.

"And then one day came, and you opened your mind wide, and I found that you could hear me at last. You spoke my name. Naught but days later, you enter this place." Another pause. Almost as if she were drawing up her courage. "Now, it seems, I can finally tell you what I wished to say all along, at last. I can tell you that…even if you should never find the place you were looking for, you will always be welcome here." And the voice swelled slightly, resolve strengthening each note. "If you deem it as home, it will become such. And I will always be here to guide you."

Abruptly, silence rose, and the voice ceased. Rukia waited, but Sode no Shirayuki did not speak again. There was nothing but the rush of the wind, that last note of affection ringing softly in its wake.

And, at the edge of her consciousness, Rukia knew somehow that it was time to leave.

A wave of dismay threatened to engulf her - she did not want to go, to leave this sanctuary. But at the same time she knew that it would be better to learn more, later, with time.

Time that was not available now.

So she stood there, for a moment, and paused, before bowing her head to the air, the snow.

"…Thank you. Sode no Shirayuki."

There was no reply, but the snow seemed to close in tighter around her for a moment, and she found that she could almost feel the faint imprint of two hands in the guise of numerous snowflakes, brushing her shoulders gently.

The white faded, and all was dark.

And when Rukia opened her eyes, she was greeted with a view of the garden before her and blue morning sky, spreading out above, heralding the balmy spring day to come.

…Though, for some reason, a chill still lingered in her limbs, a freshness that had yet to abate. And the echoes of a frosted silver bell remained in her ears, a faint toll from a tower high above the clouds.

* * *

A/N: Well, hope that came out alright. It feels slightly rushed, but…meh, I dunno. I've been wrong about stuff like that before. *glances around*

Rukia's characterization was kinda inputted on the spur of the moment on this one, so…uh, well, I hope it was okay .___.' As to Sode no Shirayuki…well, I just don't know. Really. O.o I guess it…sort of works…?

Ugh, still trying to get back into this fic properly. Constructive crit is definitely welcome. Anybody got any tippers, and I'll take 'em! :D

And now, to words of thanks!

**St. Kitsune**, **D R A G N L I L I E S**, **KawaiiRiniBunny**, **Moonrise31**, **crap-lordess**, (congrats on the new name! :D), **Beyond Flight** (two times!), **Cymru na Alethaira**, and **hu3long2** are all thus thanked _immensely. _I mean, all of you actually bothered to stick with me throughout this undertaking, and…well, thre just arent'y words to illustrate my appreciation to you all. Thank you so much. :)

Oh, and Merry Christmas to all of you!!


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